Serendipity
by Tikatu
Summary: A mysterious woman washes up on Tracy Island. Who is she? Where do they know her from? Most importantly, when is she going home? TV-verse.
1. Gordon makes a discovery

_Author's Note: _Yeah, folks. Ol' Tikatu is taking on the "babe washed up on Tracy Island" tradition. Hopefully you'll like the twists I give it and the "babe" doesn't turn out to be a big Mary Sue. (I'm sure a few of you will tell me if she does!) If you see something that looks like it's from another story, it's just coincidence. And it's a WIP, as seems to be my habit these days.

Big thanks to my betareader, Hobbeth, and also to Math Girl and ArtisticRainey, all of whom have been wonderful about giving me encouragement.

_Disclaimer: _I don't own them, I'm just writing about them. All original characters, especially the cats,are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

_**Serendipity: **good luck in making unexpected and fortunate discoveries, usually by accident__

* * *

_

_The figure rolled out of the raft. Bare feet touched the sand beneath the waist-high waves, the salty water feeling cool on the sunburned legs. Strength nearly gone, she forged ahead, stumbling once, twice, her head dipping below the water's surface. But somehow she held on, surfacing again, her now stinging, slitted eyes focused on one thing: the dry white sand of the beach ahead of her. The image of the expanse, with the welcoming shade created by the fronds of the palm trees just beyond it, held her blurred vision. She thought of nothing, nothing else but that dry ground; not her cracked lips, not her sunburned arms and face, not her exhaustion, not her hunger. Her mind burned with that one goal, to get to shore, and her body followed along automatically._

_At last, she came to the point where the surf curled around her ankles, then she was free of the sea entirely, plodding, one weary foot after another, across the expanse of wet sand. Her shoulders drooped lower and lower until her hands almost touched the ground and then her feet felt the grainy heat of the dry beach beneath them._

_"Oh, thank God," she whispered as she collapsed to the ground and knew no more._

xxxx

Scott and Gordon Tracy sauntered along the beach, dressed in short drysuits, surfboards under their arms, towels around their necks, talking and joking.

"So, Gords. You really think that storm that passed by will have generated some good waves?" Scott asked. They were headed for Gordon's favorite part of the island, the beach that faced northwest and had the biggest breakers, regardless of storm-related ocean activity.

"Yeah. From what I understand, it nearly flooded a couple of Dad's minor atolls out completely," Gordon remarked. He shifted his surfboard from under one arm to the other and slowed his walk, frowning behind his sunglasses. He nudged his older brother.

"Do you see something up ahead? Is that what I think it is?"

Scott followed the track of his brother's now pointing finger, and squinted, putting his free hand to his brow. He groaned.

"Not another one! When will the female population finally get it through their pretty little heads that beaching themselves on our island is a poor way to catch our attention?"

"I dunno, Scott." Gordon was still frowning. "Something's odd here. Usually we find them walking towards us, half-fainting from having to swim in from the boat that dropped them off. This one's not moving."

"Hmm. You have a point." Scott sighed, then jammed the end of his surfboard into the soft sand. "Come on. Let's go investigate."

Gordon followed suit and the two men jogged down the beach to the fallen figure. Scott reached her first, and touched the figure's shoulder, then pulled his hand back, hissing through his teeth.

"Gordon, this might be the real thing. Look at how sunburned she is."

His brother joined him, reaching alongside the woman's neck for a pulse. "She's breathing and has a pulse." He pinched the skin on the woman's forearm. The gathered skin didn't immediately spring back. "She's dehydrated."

"And bruised," Scott remarked as he turned the woman over, brushing sand away from the reddened face. A wide bruise could be seen on either side of her neck, just where it met the shoulder, and a small, black and blue lump decorated the forehead.

"She's been here a while, Scott, her hair is drying out. Her skin is really hot. Could be sunstroke."

Scott had noticed the hair, dark brown and shot through with plenty of silver strands, curling in fluffy ringlets where it had dried. The lips were cracked and swollen, but the rest of the face was pleasant to look at despite the few lines that obvious maturity had left on it. Scott suddenly felt she reminded him of someone, someone he just couldn't place right then.

The two brothers exchanged glances. "Whoever she is, she's not our usual beach find. Call the house, Gordon, and have Virgil and Brains come out and meet us with a hover craft and some medical supplies. You and I can use a surfboard to move her up into the shade."

"Right, Scott." And Gordon stayed by the woman's side, making the call to the Tracy Villa as Scott ran back to grab one of the long surfboards.

xxxx

Cool. She felt cool. Cool air circulating around her. Cool wetness pressed to her forehead and face. Cool sheets beneath her skin.

_Sheets?_

She slowly opened her heavy eyelids. They closed again, and she fought to open them.

"Hey! She's c-coming around!" said a tenor voice.

Her eyelids finally cooperated, and stayed open. Her vision took some time to adjust but eventually a face, no, two faces greeted her. One, _- a male, in his 20s it looks like - _had short brown hair and thick, blue rimmed glasses. The other, _- an Asian female, early 20s by the looks of her- _wore her thick black hair pulled back from her face and a soft smile.

She tried her voice, but it was too sandpapery.

"Here. Sip this." The young woman held a straw up to her lips, sliding the smooth plastic between them and into her mouth. She pulled the edge of it in and sucked on the straw reflexively. A burst of cool wetness, blessedly cool, sublimely wet, filled her mouth and she fought the instinctive urge to gulp the water down. A few sips, and she tried her voice again. This time, she was able to speak.

"W-Where am I?" she croaked out.

"Y-You're safe," said the young man._ Stutter. He has a stutter. _The woman's mind automatically catalogued the fact.

"Where?" she asked again, clearer and more insistently.

"You are at the island home of Jefferson Tracy," the young woman said with a smile. "My name is Tin-Tin, and you may call him Brains. What is your name?"

"Myles... Lou Myles."

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Myles," Tin-Tin said pleasantly.

_Wait. Did she say Tracy?_

"Did you say Tracy? The billionaire recluse?"

Tin-Tin cocked her head at Lou. "Yes, Tracy. The billionaire recluse. Why?"

_Play it cool. Say something safe_.

"I've heard of him... always thought he lived... in Kansas?"

Tin-Tin smiled. "Well, now you know better, Ms. Myles. Here, have some more water."

"Thanks." Lou closed her eyes again; the lids were much too heavy to keep open.

"D-Do you have any f-family we could, uh, call?" Brains - _what an absurd name _- asked.

"Sister. My sister. Kenne... bunkport. Shelly... Clarendon." The darkness was beckoning again.

"Okay, Ms. Myles. We'll do what we can. You rest now. We'll be back later." The Asian's melodic voice lulled Lou to sleep.

"What do you think, Brains?" Tin-Tin asked as they left the sick room.

Brains sighed. "I-I don't know what to think. And I-I won't know until she's, uh, awake enough to a-answer questions. I wish Mr. T-Tracy were here."

"And I wish Mrs. Tracy were back from that funeral," Tin-Tin murmured. "I noticed you were blushing when you helped me get Ms. Myles into the tepid water to cool her down."

Brains rolled his eyes. "I-I'm not used to d-doctoring females, T-Tin-Tin. You and Mrs. T-Tracy usually see your own, uh, physicians."

Scott approached the two as they walked into the lounge. "How's our... castaway?" he asked.

"She came around for a few minutes, Scott. Gave us her name and the name of family to contact," Tin-Tin replied.

"Well, what's the name this time? Something multi-syllabic and exotic?" Virgil asked from the piano where he had been practicing scales.

"A-Actually, no," Brains admitted. "She said her n-name was L-Lou. Lou M-Myles."

"Lou? Wonder if it's short for something?" Gordon asked from where he lay on Thunderbird Three's sofa, reading a magazine. "Louise?"

"Luanne? Louellen?" Tin-Tin answered thoughtfully.

"Louella? Lucretia? Ludmilla?" Gordon offered with a grin, causing Virgil to snort a laugh and Scott to chuckle.

"Oh, Gordon, I should hope not!" Tin-Tin cried. "No parent would be so cruel as to name their child Ludmilla!"

"Lucille?" Alan offered as he came in from the balcony. Everyone went silent, and he found himself on the receiving end of his brothers' stares. "What? It's a perfectly good name!"

Scott sighed. "Exactly how much of the conversation did you hear, Alan?"

"Uh, not enough, I guess, from everyone's reaction," Alan admitted. "But what's wrong with Lucille?"

"Nothing, Alan. It's just... oh, never mind," Scott said, shaking his head.

"Oh. Okay," said Alan, clearly still confused.

"It might be good for us to return our castaway to the mainland before Dad and Grandma return from their trip," Gordon suggested. "Then he wouldn't have to deal with her, no matter what her name."

"Right. I'll get in touch with this relative right away," Scott said firmly. "See what kind of arrangements can be made. And try to find out a little more about this Lou Myles in the process." He blew out a breath and shook his head again. "I still feel like I should know her."

"W-Well, please take into c-consideration that Ms., uh, Myles won't be ready to t-travel for another day or two. I-I want to see her fully hy-hydrated and the sunburn more or less r-resolved before discharging her," Brains warned.

"Okay, Brains. I'll keep that in mind," Scott promised.

Tin-Tin moved to Jeff's desk and logged in to the computer there. Within just a moment or two, she looked up at Scott and smiled. "I have the phone number of Ms. Myles's sister, Mrs. Clarendon. She was surprisingly easy to find."

"That's a shock. Usually our beach finds have no family, or they can't reveal where they are for fear of something bad happening to them," Gordon commented. "Or at least that's what they claim."

"True," Scott replied, taking Tin-Tin's spot behind Jeff's desk. "I'd better call the lady and let her know that her sister is still alive." He dialed the number that Tin-Tin had found for him. After three rings, a pleasant looking-woman with dark strands threaded through the bright silver answered the phone. _She seems much older than our Ms. Myles_, he thought.

"Hello, Mrs. Clarendon?"

"Yes, I'm Shelly Clarendon." The woman looked back at him with a bit of suspicion. "If you're trying to sell me something, I'm afraid I don't want it..."

Scott nearly laughed, but instead smiled widely. "No, Mrs. Clarendon, I'm not a salesman. My name is Scott Tracy, and I'm calling about your sister, Lou Myles."

Shelly's face took on a surprised, fearful look. "Lou? What's happened to her? Is she okay?"

_This lady seems to expect bad things to happen to her sister,_ Scott noted. "Well, Mrs. Clarendon, we're not exactly sure what happened to her; she washed up on our private beach earlier today..."

She put a hand over her mouth and her eyes got very wide. "Washed up? On your beach? Is she all right?" she asked in a frantic voice.

Scott smiled again and spoke soothingly. "She's going to be all right, Mrs. Clarendon. She was dehydrated and sunburned and had a touch of heat stroke, but she's in our infirmary right now, being tended to by our physician. She came around long enough to give us her name and yours. We were hoping you might give us some insight as to what happened to her. And that we could make some arrangements for her to get home."

Shelly Clarendon shook her head. "I have no idea what could have happened to her. Last I heard, she was heading to Hawaii for a couple of days, then was going to catch a commercial flight home. She was retiring, and looking forward to going back to her little house."

Scott's curiosity itched and he wanted so badly to ask Mrs. Clarendon who her sister worked for and what she did. _I'd better put those questions to Ms. Myles herself when she comes around again. _Instead he asked, "Was she flying commercial from... wherever she was flying from?"

"Oh, no. She has her pilot's license and was returning a company plane from, lemme see-oh yes, here it is. From Auckland to Guam."

Scott was relieved to hear it; for Ms. Myles to be flying commercial would have meant a disaster that International Rescue had not heard about and should probably have responded to, but a small plane going down would have been below their radar, so to speak. His curiosity about their guest grew, and it was with difficulty that he refrained from questioning Mrs. Clarendon further.

"I am surprised," Shelly continued, "that I haven't heard from her employers. Surely they would have missed her by now. Hmph. Well, I'll let Lou deal with it when she gets back." She cocked her head and smiled at Scott. "You were saying something about making arrangements to get her home?"

"Uh, yes. She had reservations on a commercial flight from Hawaii, you say? Maybe we can fly her there and she can catch her flight back to Maine," Scott suggested.

"Oh, Lou doesn't live in Maine. She lives in North Carolina," Shelly informed him. "And I'm sure that she could get on her flight without a problem. She does have her identification on her, doesn't she?"

Scott blinked. "Uh, no. I'm afraid she doesn't." He himself had gone through what remained of the woman's clothes, looking for clues to her identity.

Shelly's face fell. "Well, I'll see what I can do here about getting copies of her i.d. to her. It will take a few days though. I'll have to go down to North Carolina..."

Scott shook his head. "No, Mrs. Clarendon, don't worry about it. We'll take care of getting her home."

"Well, if you're sure..."

"Yes, I'm sure."

"All right. You tell Lou I told her to get better and tell her I'll call Mrs. Mason about the cats, too. Please have her call me as soon as she's able."

"Uh, right. I will. May I call you again if we have any other questions?"

"Oh, yes. Feel free," Shelly told him.

"Thank you, Mrs. Clarendon. You've been a big help. Goodbye." Scott cut communications with the older woman and sat back, picking up a pencil and tapping it against his chin in an unconscious imitation of his father. _Well, it sounds like this lady is legit so far. I just wish I could remember where I've seen her before! I'm sure I have!_


	2. Scott asks some questions

_Author's Note:_ Just as an FYI, this is TV-verse, using the original ages and birth order, but set after Jeff Tracy's 60th birthday. There is some comic book-verse, especially about the where, when, and how of Lucille's death is concerned (which agrees with the 2004 movie, BTW). A big thanks to Hobbeth for betareading, and also to Math Girl and ArtisticRainey for encouragement. Now, to my reviewers:

**Girl Detective:** I'm glad you find this interesting. I hope it continues to be so.

**Math Girl:** Wild ride? We'll just see how wild it gets.

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

She opened her eyes again, and blinked. This time her eyelids didn't feel so heavy and she kept them up, looking around the room. The first thing she noticed was the IV bag of clear fluid that hung over her head to one side. She followed the tubing and realized it ended at a needle inserted in her hand. 

_Leave it for now. It doesn't seem to be doing any harm. _

Turning her head, she saw that she was in a hospital type bed.

_Hospital. Hospital? That's not what I remember. I remember an Asian girl and a man with a strange name and a stutter. Brains. That was the name. Brains. Still think it's absurd._

On further examination, she saw a glass, half full of water and garnished with a straw, sitting on a table next to her.

_Thirsty._

She reached out for the glass and pulled it to herself, sliding the straw between her stiff lips. The drink wasn't as cool as it had been before, but it was still gloriously wet and she pulled on the straw until the water was gone. Then the door opened, and the Asian girl saw her and smiled.

"How are you feeling, Ms. Myles?" she asked, coming and taking the glass from Lou's hand. "Let me refill this and adjust the head of the bed for you. Then we can talk."

The girl was as good as her word, and soon Lou was sitting up, sipping more refreshingly cold water.

"That's better," she said, pulling up a seat. "I don't know if you remember, but my name is Tin-Tin Kyrano. And you are at the home of Jefferson Tracy. You were found washed up on the beach."

Lou sighed. "I do remember, I think. At least about the beach. And the island. From the time I woke up before. Where is your friend? The one with the funny name?"

"He's occupied elsewhere, Ms. Myles." The door suddenly opened and a handsome young man walked in. Tin-Tin turned to greet the newcomer. Lou's eyes widened, but just for a moment.

_Play it cool! Don't give anything away!_

By the time Tin-Tin turned back, Lou's face was a study in cordial confusion.

"Hello, Scott," Tin-Tin said with a smile.

_Relationship? Friends? Brother-sister? Or maybe more?_

"Scott, I'd like you to meet Ms. Lou Myles. Ms. Myles, this is Scott Tracy, oldest son of Jeff Tracy," Tin-Tin told her. He came up beside the bed, refraining from offering his hand, knowing about the IV that was stuck in her veins.

"Hello, Mr. Tracy. It's nice to meet you," Lou said politely.

Scott laughed. "Please, call me Scott. Mr. Tracy is my father. We've already met, Ms. Myles, though I'm sure you don't remember."

_Met before? Does he remember....?_

"My brother, Gordon, and I found you on the beach. Of course, you were in no condition then for introductions," Scott continued cordially.

_He doesn't remember. Interesting._

"I'm sorry to have intruded on your family's privacy, Scott," Lou said contritely. "It was purely by accident that I found your island at all."

Scott pulled up a chair for himself. "Ms. Myles, I've talked to your sister, Mrs. Clarendon...."

Lou was surprised. "You talked to Shelly?"

"Yes. You gave us her name when you woke up before. She wants to talk to you as soon as you are able, and she says get well and she'll talk to someone about the... cats?" Now Scott looked a bit confused as he tried to relay a message he didn't quite understand.

Lou smiled, her cracked, sunburned lips feeling tight as they stretched. Tin-Tin saw this and got up, returning with a small pot of ointment and her hand in a medical glove.

"Here, Ms. Myles. Let me put some of this on your lips. It will help." Tin-Tin reached out and smoothed some of the ointment, which smelled like coconut, on Lou's lips. Lou rubbed her lips together and found it easier to smile.

"Thank you, Tin-Tin," she told the girl, who smiled back and withdrew. She turned her attention back to Scott. "Did she mention the name 'Mrs. Mason'?"

"Yes, she did," Scott admitted, relieved.

"That's my cat sitter. Shelly will let her know that I'm going to be late," Lou replied. "So, have you found my plane?"

It was Scott's turn to look surprised. "Uh, no. We haven't. I just found out about it from your sister. I wanted to talk to you and ask you what happened. How did you know that your sister mentioned it?"

"I know my sister," Lou said with a small laugh. "She is a worry wart and needs to know every detail of where I'm going and what I'm doing. She probably thought you needed all the details, too." _Though I hope she didn't tell him **everything**...._

"Well, she mentioned that you were flying a 'company plane' from Auckland to Guam. What happened between the two places?"

Lou shrugged. "I'm not sure why, but my plane went down, and me with it. I had just entered a storm, a storm, mind you, that I had no idea was coming up. Suddenly, the engine sputtered and died and I dropped like a rock. I know I managed to get the nose up so that the plane skipped across the waves like a flat stone for a bit." She reached up to touch the contusion on her forehead. "I got this nice souvenir bump from banging around in the cockpit, but I managed to stay conscious and throw the life raft out and swim over to it. Then the plane sank. The storm was almost finished passing over my position, but it still dumped a lot of rain in the life raft and I bailed it all out. Later, I wished I hadn't because I didn't have anything to drink," she explained, ending with a rueful tone.

"Did you put out a mayday?" Scott asked. Brains came in quietly to confer with Tin-Tin.

"I think I turned on the automatic one," Lou replied after a moment of hard thinking. "I was too busy trying to keep the plane's nose up to shout out one." She sat back wearily. "I floated out there for at least a day before I saw your island in the distance and started paddling for it."

Scott was about to ask some more questions when Brains came over. "S-Scott, I need to put some more, uh, burn salve on Ms. M-Myles. Can you, uh, c-come back l-later?"

"Sure, Brains. Will Ms. Myles be able to join us for dinner?" Scott asked.

"I-I don't see why not, as long as we c-can find her some, uh, clothing," Brains replied.

"Hmm." Tin-Tin looked Lou up and down. "Perhaps a pair of your sweatpants, Scott, and one of Gordon's t-shirts would work. And one of his dressing gowns as well. I'll ask him."

"And I'll let Kyrano know that we have one more for dinner," Scott said, smiling. "Then I'll come back and talk to you later, Ms. Myles."

"Okay, Scott. Thank you for finding me, and taking care of me," Lou said with a weary smile. She turned to Tin-Tin and Brains. "And thank you as well for all you've done."

"You're welcome," Brains said as he pulled out a tube of blue gel. Scott smiled and gave her a small salute as he left the room.

Brains and Tin-Tin helped her smooth the cooling gel over her arms and legs and face, then they left her to rest. She lay back against the raised head of the bed and sighed with relief.

_That went better than expected. I hope Scott doesn't get too much more personal with his questions. There are some questions I just can't answer._

Scott rubbed his stubbly chin as he headed back to the lounge._ I think I'll ask Gordon where this plane was most likely to have gone down in relation to the island, and maybe have John try to find it with the scanners in Thunderbird Five. There's something not quite right with her story and I'd like to corroborate it, if only to satisfy my own itch. Maybe then I'll know where I've seen her before._


	3. The Tracys eat dinner

_Author's Note: _A big thanks to Hobbeth for betareading, and also to Math Girl and ArtisticRainey for encouragement. Now, to my reviewers:

**Girl Detective: **You'll just have to wait and see if Scott's suspicions are correct.

**KitKat TicTac:** If you think you know who it is, please don't give it away. I'm sorry to say that this chapter won't help much in identifying Lou's origins.

**Meercat:** I'm glad you like the deliberate pace of this. More suspicious behavior to come!

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

Brains escorted Lou to the table in the dining room. She looked and felt uncomfortable. Her arms and face and neck were smeared with a blue goo, and she still had the I.V. port in her right hand. She wore a pair of dark blue sweatpants, and a t-shirt that said "Laguna Beach" across the front, or across what you could see of it since it was mostly covered up by a cotton paisley dressing gown. Kyrano had tried to launder what few clothes she had on her, but the seawater had ruined her blouse, and, as she told Brains and Tin-Tin, she had shed her slacks because they weighed her down when she swam for the life raft. Her panties had come through the laundry cycle pretty much intact, but her brassiere, unfortunately, had shrunk a bit too much for her to wear. And as she had ditched her shoes in the sea as well, she was barefoot.

"Welcome, Lou," Scott said as he rose to pull her chair out for her. She thanked him and sat down, nervously looking around the table.

"Lou, this is my brother, Virgil, and my other brother, Gordon, and my other brother, Alan," Scott said with a mischievous smile. "You've met Tin-Tin and Brains already. This," now he indicated the man serving the food, "this is Kyrano, Tin-Tin's father, and the man who helps us keep our bodies and souls together."

"Hello, Ms. Myles," Kyrano said formally. "It is a pleasure to have you at our table."

"Thank you, Kyrano," Lou responded. The brothers had each responded with a murmured "hello" when Scott introduced them; Alan's greeting preceded by a rolling of his blue eyes and a shaking of his blond head.

"I'm glad to see you looking a whole lot better than you did when we found you on the beach," Gordon remarked. "How are the clothes?"

"They're fine, thank you," Lou answered quietly. "Thank you for lending them to me. And for finding me on your beach."

"No problem," Gordon said genially. "Glad to be of assistance."

"I have to admit, Lou, when Scott and Gordon told us they'd found a woman on the beach, I had no idea she'd look like you," Virgil said around a mouthful of Thai baby corn.

"What exactly did you expect? Uh, it's Virgil, right?" Lou asked.

The brothers laughed, and Tin-Tin and Brains both chuckled.

"Did I say something funny?" Lou asked again, concerned.

"Yes and no, Lou," Alan began to explain. "You see, we are all eligible bachelors, sons of one of the richest men in the world. Every six months or so, a beautiful young woman shows up on our beach, hoping to snare one of us. It's almost impossible to get them to leave! They don't get it that we'd rather do the chasing ourselves."

"Oh, is that so? I suppose that means I'm not beautiful. Or is it young?" Lou quipped, before taking a mouthful of steamed tilapi. She chewed and swallowed, then took a sip of water. "Well, you don't have to worry about me. I'll be leaving as soon as... Brains... gives me the okay to go."

She applied herself to her food, but her gaze kept straying to Virgil. _God, he's her image._

He looked up, saw her looking at him intently and, smiling, asked, "What's wrong, Lou? Do I have something in my teeth?"

She chuckled and looked down. _Busted! _"No, Virgil. You just remind me... of an old friend, that's all."

"Ah." Virgil nodded. He exchanged glances with Scott, his look puzzled, then shrugged and went back to eating.

"So, are you named for the poet?" Lou asked politely, recovering from her _faux pas_. Virgil rolled his eyes. Lou saw this and asked, "Is that a question you get a lot?"

"Yes, it is," Virgil replied, sighing.

"Yeah, Virge here is named after someone a whole lot more recent and daring than that moldy old poet," Gordon said, an eyebrow raised cockily and watching his older brother out of the corners of his eyes.

Scott intervened. "Our father named us all after the original Mercury astronauts, the first Americans in space during the twentieth century. I'm named for Scott Carpenter. Virgil is named for Virgil 'Gus' Grissom, Gordon for Leroy Gordon Cooper, and Alan for Alan Shepherd."

"That means that your first name must be Leroy," Lou said to Gordon. He sputtered and choked on a sip of wine, and Alan whacked him on the back.

Virgil grinned. "No, Father preferred Gordon."

"Ohhh," Lou said. "Now I understand." She looked around. "Where is your father? I'd like to meet him."

"Oh, Dad's in the States right now, Lou," Alan said.

"Yes," Tin-Tin piped up, glad to have a part in the conversation. "He took his mother to a funeral of one of her oldest friends. She was to stay and visit with other friends while he went on to Tracy Industries headquarters for a couple of weeks."

"Ah. Too bad," Lou said with regret. "I'll have to find some way to thank him for his hospitality. And tell him what wonderful sons he has raised."

Kyrano came in to serve dessert. "I hope you have enjoyed your meal, Ms. Myles," he said with a gentle smile as he served her a slice of cheesecake, a cherry compote poured over its center.

"Oh, yes! Everything is delicious... Kyrano, right? Thank you so much!" she gushed. He smiled again, and continued serving the rest of the table.

"So, Lou, what is it you do?" Scott asked. "Or rather, what did you do? I understand you're retired. Or retiring, as your sister put it."

_Uh oh. I was afraid of this. __But I can get through this. I don't have to give it all away._

"My sister was right. I've retired. My last duty for my employer was to fly that plane to Guam. Then I would be free of the daily grind," Lou said with a smile.

"So, you're a corporate pilot? Or you were one?" Virgil asked, curious.

"That was part of my duties, yes," Lou said, taking a sip of water.

"You mean you aren't a secret agent, on the run from 'mysterious forces' that threaten your family?" Gordon asked in a voice that made him sound like he was narrating a thrilling movie.

Lou blinked and gave him a puzzled look. "I beg your pardon?"

Gordon laughed, joined by the rest of the people at the table. He tilted his chair backwards, balancing it two legs.

"That's one of the standard stories we get from the women who wash up on our beach," Virgil explained. "We can't contact their families because that would 'endanger' them. Mostly they say that because if we did call their families, we'd learn the truth about them."

"Y-Yes," Brains added. "U-Usually they're some young woman with, uh, a need for money and a good friend who has a b-boat."

"Though we have gotten the occasional tabloid reporter, too," Alan said, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

"She can't be one of those mysterious women, Gordon. I've talked to her sister," Scott said with a wink.

"And she's all the family I have, too," Lou said. "Aside from her children and if you don't count my cats."

The conversation steered to Lou's cats, and Alan's pygmy alligator, as coffee was served and consumed. Scott kept looking at her surreptitiously. When the meal was over, and everyone had excused themselves, Scott collared Virgil as soon as Lou was out of earshot.

"Well? Do you recognize her?"

"I... I'm not sure, Scott. I feel like I should. Something about her voice, I think. But I can't place her right now."

"It's driving me crazy! It's on the edge of my memory and it just won't surface!" Scott blew out a breath in frustration. "Well, if anything comes to you, let me know."

"I will, Scott."

Virgil headed up to the lounge, intending to put in some piano practice. He was startled to see Lou standing in the middle of the room looking around. She turned at his entrance, and smiled sheepishly.

"I'm sorry. I seem to have taken a wrong turn on my way back to your infirmary."

"No problem, Lou." Virgil settled himself on the piano bench. "When you want to go back to the sick room, just let me know. I'll be happy to escort you."

"Thank you, Virgil." Lou made a tour of the room, examining the artwork. When she reached the wall that contained the Tracy sons' casual portraits, she turned to Virgil.

"Who is this?" She indicated John's portrait.

"That's our middle brother, John," Virgil answered. "Scott and I are older than he is while Gordon and Alan are younger."

"What astronaut is he named for?"_ As if I didn't already know._

"He's named for John Glenn, who was later a U.S. Senator," Virgil answered.

"Oh, that's interesting. Where is he, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He's away on company business."

Lou smiled at him, laugh lines evident beside each eye. She moved over to the portrait of the rocket taking off. After a few moments perusal, she turned to Virgil, who was arranging his sheet music.

"Who painted this? I see the initials, 'VGT'. Is that you?"

Virgil nodded. She gazed at it again, then turned to say, "It's very good."

"Thank you," he answered simply. He began to play, watching her over the sheets of musical score. She bypassed the desk with just a glance and walked over to the portrait of Penelope.

"Now, I've seen her before. She models for François Lemaire, doesn't she? Her name's Penelope something-or-other, isn't it?"

Virgil smiled. "Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward. She's an old friend of the family."

"Does she live here?"

"No. She makes her home in England."

"Oh. Very interesting."_ Good. I wouldn't want to meet up with her here and now. That would ruin everything._

Having looked at everything in the room, Lou made her way over to the piano. She smoothed one hand along its curved edge.

"You play very well." _Just like she did. _She came over to peer at the music.

"Do you play?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. I can read music, but I've never learned to play. Never sat still long enough to practice."

"Do you sing?" Virgil asked again, smiling.

"In the shower. In the car. Along with the radio. At home, sometimes. Where there's no one to hear me," Lou answered with a chuckle. "Even my cats run away when I start to sing."

Virgil chuckled, too, thinking, _That tears it. No way can she be one of those mysterious adventuresses that we are inflicted with. Most of them claim to be overacheivers when it comes to music._

He tuned back in to hear Lou say with a grin, "I'd probably be one of those 'messy sopranos' you hear of."

"Oh! A Victor Borge fan! He was such a card!" Virgil exclaimed. He began to play the "Third Man Theme" to Lou's delight. His playing tapered off when he saw Lou hide a yawn behind a hand.

"Excuse me, Virgil, but I think I'd better get some more rest," she said apologetically.

"I understand. Let me escort you down to the sick room," he said. As he rose to do so, Brains walked in from the study.

"Th-There you are! Time for some more, uh, sunburn salve, L-Lou," the scientist said.

"I'm coming... Brains. Virgil, thank you very much for the music." Lou turned to follow Brains.

"You're welcome, Lou. Maybe I can play again before you leave."

"I'd like that." She glanced over at her new escort. "See you around."

"Right." Virgil said as medic and patient left together. He sat back down, thinking over the conversation he had just had_. Scott's right. There's something definitely familiar about her. I wish I could put my finger on it._


	4. John is consulted

_Author's Note: _A big thanks to Hobbeth for betareading, and also to Math Girl and ArtisticRainey for encouragement. Now, to my reviewers:

**KitKat TicTac:** Sorry, KKTT, but there's more mysterious and suspicious behavior to come.

**killhill2003:** Shocking, isn't it? I'm glad you're enjoying the twist. More to come!

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

Night at the Tracy villa was quiet. Scott sat behind his father's desk, doing a crossword puzzle. Most everyone else had gone to bed. Brains had given Lou a light sedative when she complained that the sunburn was making sleep difficult. Scott had no fears that she would come walking in on him, but he still made sure that the door from the hallway to the study, and from the balcony to the lounge were locked. 

_This mystery surrounding Lou is nagging at me, _he thought. _I hate this thinking that I know her but not being able to place where or when. Hmm. Maybe it's time to ask John to help me out. _He reached out to flip the switch that put him in communication with his younger brother in their space satellite.

"Thunderbird Five from base. Come in, John."

"Base from Thunderbird Five," John replied as his live feed image appeared where his portrait had just been. "What's up, Scott?"

"Not much. Just thought you should know that we're under Operation Cover Up. We have an uninvited guest."

"Really? I haven't had any readings of anyone approaching the island. How did they get there, whoever they are?"

Scott grinned. "How do strange women usually get to our island?"

John rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Another 'beach find'? What's her name this time? If she's good looking, I might be interested. I've been pretty lonely up here this month. There's not been a lot to report."

"She's not the usual exotic type, John. She's a middle-aged retiree, and came to us dehydrated, with a touch of sunstroke and a wicked sunburn. I've been able to contact her family and as soon as Brains is satisfied with her condition, home she goes. Eagerly, I might add." Scott paused. "Her name is Lou Myles."

"Lou? What does that stand for?" John asked.

"Don't know. We haven't asked and she hasn't offered," Scott replied. "But I'll tell you, John, she seems really familiar to me. I keep thinking I should know her from somewhere. Virge has the same feeling; says her voice sounds familiar. It's driving us nuts! Can you think of anyone that might fit the bill? She's slightly above average height, well-built, nice looking with a strong chin. Short, dark brown hair with some silver in it. Brown eyes, good teeth..."

"Scott, that could be just about anybody," John snorted, irritated. "And since you can't exactly parade her before me or let me talk to her without security being compromised, I'm not going to be able to help you out." Now John paused, his eyes narrowing in thought. "But... her name. Myles? It rings a bell. Is she married?"

Scott's eyes widened in surprise. "I don't know. She's not wearing a wedding ring."

"Hmm. I almost thought I had it," John said. He looked at his brother and frowned. "Now I'm going to be going crazy trying to figure out who this mystery woman of yours is!"

Scott chuckled. "Misery loves company," he told his brother. "Listen, John. She said that her plane went down, oh, it would be two days ago now. On her way from Auckland to Guam. She told me that she activated the automatic mayday, but didn't have time to shout one out. Gordon and I found her on the western beach. Could you look back in the computer logs and see if there was anything? Some hint of where she might have gone down?"

John sighed and nodded. "I suppose I can. How far out from the Island? It's a lot of Pacific, but the sensors might have picked up something and recorded it. I'll take a look and if I find something, I'll patch it through to the lab since we're under Operation Cover Up."

"F-A-B. She says she was at least a day on the deep. And we found her this morning."

"Okay. That narrows things down a bit. But I'm warning you, don't expect much."

Scott nodded. "Thanks for doing this, John. Dad will be home in a couple of days and I'd like the mystery cleared up so I can give him a full report," Scott told him. "I just hope that there are no rescues while she's here."

"Me, too, Scott. Well, I'd better get to work on this. Talk to you soon."

"Right. Take care, John. Base out."

Scott cut off the communication, then sat back. _Maybe if we can get an idea of where she went down, Gordon could go out and take a look. If anything, it would lend credence to her story. I've little reason to doubt her, but we've heard stories like this before. The main thing she has going for her is the fact that her sister, who **we** contacted, said she was flying a plane, and that the destinations match up. She didn't correct me, either, when I mentioned Auckland. I'll see if I can get some more information in the morning._

In Thunderbird Five, John went to the computer and pulled up the logs from three days ago and began a search. _Location, the Pacific ocean between Auckland and Guam. Distance, maybe, oh, 100 or fewer miles out from Tracy Island, in a westwardly direction. Type of signal, an automated mayday from a small plane. _He let the search run, then went off to the galley to get himself a cup of coffee. It looked to be a long night .

xxxx

Lou lay on the hospital bed, waiting for the light sedative to take effect. She knew she should be tired enough; between the plane going down and the time she spent paddling to where she was now, she should be exhausted. In truth, her muscles and joints hurt almost as much as her skin did, and her head throbbed from the bump it had taken. Brains had put her back on the I.V., wanting to rehydrate her body as effectively as possible. So she felt no compulsion to go walking about exploring the place, as much as she would have liked to.

Instead, her mind buzzed with questions. _Why did the plane go down? And why wasn't I warned about the storm? The weather report they handed to me said high pressure and clear flying all the way from Auckland. I don't want to think of what might have happened if I hadn't been able to ditch in the sea and get out of the plane. But then, if they wanted me dead... no, it had to be an accident. An outdated weather report and some kind of mechanical failure. That must be it._

She sighed, then yawned. As she dropped into a drug aided sleep, she said to herself, _Right. An accident. Now if I only believed it._

xxxx

The morning held the promise of rain, with low gray clouds floating as far as the eye could see. Or at least as far as Scott could see from his position on the balcony. He heard the buzz of an engine taking off and was surprised to see Tin-Tin's Ladybird taxi down the airstrip and climb into the sullen sky.

"Where's she going?" he muttered, then, curiosity piqued, he went inside to find out. Making his way downstairs, he entered the kitchen. Kyrano was busy fixing a breakfast tray. Virgil was sitting at the table in his pajamas and dressing gown, reading the paper. Gordon was busy shoveling cereal in his mouth; he was wearing shorts and a t-shirt and Scott knew he had just come in from a swim. The oldest Tracy son poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and asked casually, "Where did Tin-Tin run off to this morning?"

"My daughter has gone with Mr. Alan to Moyla to purchase some clothing for Ms. Myles," Kyrano answered in his polite way. "She felt it would reflect badly on the family if Ms. Myles were to return to the United States wearing, as she put it, 'somebody's hand-me-downs'."

Scott could see Virgil's paper shake, indicating that his next youngest brother was trying hard to keep from laughing. He shook his head and went over to inspect the tray.

"For Ms. Myles?" he asked.

The family retainer nodded. "Mr. Brains says she does not feel up to joining us for the morning meal."

Scott nodded. "Is it ready? I'll take it down to the sick room for you."

"It is ready. And thank you, Mr. Scott. Please remind Mr. Brains that it is time to eat."

"I will," Scott assured him, and he picked up the tray and headed down the hall to the sick room. He knocked on the door and heard Brains call, "C-Come in." The door swished open, and Scott walked in. He found Brains checking Lou's I.V. Lou herself was dressed in a hospital gown and, upon seeing him, gave him a wan smile.

"Kyrano sent breakfast down for you, Lou," Scott said as he put the tray across her lap. He pulled up a chair beside the bed, then turned his attention to Brains. "Brains, Kyrano asked me to remind you that it's time to eat."

"O-Okay, Scott. I-I get the, uh, m-message," Brains replied with a sigh. "Y-You rest t-today, Lou. The s-strain of the past few days has, uh, caught up w-with you. I'll b-be back soon."

"I'll keep her company while you're gone," Scott said with a smile. Brains nodded and left the sick room.

"Does he often miss meals?" Lou asked in a quiet voice. She reached over and picked up the glass of orange juice. Scott frowned as he saw the liquid shake in its container. Still, she brought it to her lips without incident.

"He misses more than we'd like," he admitted. "Sometimes he needs to be reminded that there's a world outside his lab." The glass shook even more when she went to set it down, and Scott, fearing a spill, stood and took it from her. "You're shaky today."

She took a deep breath. "I'm afraid so. Reaction, I think. Yesterday I was coming out of survival mode, trying to keep myself alive and not having too much time to think about what happened. But today, I can't help but think about it and... what might have been." She closed her eyes and leaned back against the raised bed. "On top of that, it feels like every joint and muscle hurts. Not to mention my sunburn."

"Has Brains given you anything for the pain?" Scott asked, preparing to rise and get something from the medicine chest if she needed it.

"Yes, he did, Scott," she answered. "He added it to my IV. I should feel the effects of it soon."

He settled back down in his seat, and looked at her intently, his brain filing through the women he knew._ Problem is, I don't know that many women Lou's age. Maybe she was involved in a rescue somewhere. Of course, I couldn't possibly ask her that._

"Lou, I'm almost certain I've seen you before," he admitted. "But I can't remember where."

She opened her eyes and looked at him sleepily, a small smile on her lips. "I'm sure if I had met a man as handsome as you are, Scott, I would remember him. They do say that everyone has a double somewhere. Maybe you've met mine."

"I suppose that could be the case." He looked at the breakfast tray. "Are you hungry? Kyrano makes a wonderful Farmer's Scramble."

"It smells terrific," she said. Picking up her utensils, she forked some into her mouth. The fork shook as it moved from plate to mouth but the morsel remained aboard. Another tidbit followed, and suddenly, she was hungry and her shaking diminished. Between bites, she began to question her questioner.

"What do you do, besides live here on this island?" she asked, sipping some of the orange juice, her hand much more steady.

"I work for the family business," Scott replied. It was his standard reply to the question and it was true enough. They all worked for "the family business", both the overt and the covert. He spent a week or more every quarter at the corporate offices in New York, and occasionally his father would send him out to an office where a family face was sometimes required to calm things down or stir things up.

"Sounds interesting," Lou said politely. She was making good headway on her breakfast now. "I must have needed to eat and that's why I was so shaky." She paused her eating for a moment, and her face took on puzzled expression. "Does... Brains have another name?" she asked. "It seems so... odd... for a man to be called just 'Brains'."

"Uh, yes, he does," Scott replied with a wry grin. "But believe me, he prefers to be called 'Brains'. His given name is unwieldly to say the least." He looked at her speculatively and said, "I'll tell you what his name is if you tell me what 'Lou' stands for."

Lou chuckled. "Then I'll pass. The name that 'Lou' is short for is like Brains's name must be, laugh provoking."

"Aww. C'mon, you can tell me," he cajoled, putting on his most honest and sincere expression. "I promise I won't laugh."

"Sorry, but wheedling will get you nowhere," Lou replied. She drained her juice, and put the glass back on the tray. "I think I've had enough. Please give Kyrano my thanks." She leaned back and closed her eyes again.

Scott knew that his interview with Lou was over. He picked up the unfinished tray and headed for the door. "I'll be back later, Lou. Oh, Tin-Tin's gone out to purchase some clothes for you."

"I know. She asked me what sizes I wore," Lou responded, eyes still closed. Scott sighed, then left, taking the tray with him.

As she heard the door close, Lou opened one eye to be sure he was gone then shut it again. A small smile crossed her still burned lips._ You are bad, woman! You are having entirely too much fun watching this poor young man try to remember where he's seen you before! At this point, I doubt that even giving him my first name would trigger the memory. But it might in Virgil, or in John, if Scott talks to him. Gordon and Alan wouldn't remember; they were only babies. Just wish I could see Jeff again. But I think it's better that I'm off this island before their father, and especially their grandmother, return. Still, I should leave a memento of my visit. I'll have to ask Tin-Tin or Brains for paper, pen, and envelope._

Scott took the tray back up to the kitchen. Brains was still sitting at the table, reading a journal while slowly eating his breakfast. Kyrano took the tray from him and tsked over the food left behind.

"She was not hungry, Mr. Scott?" he asked.

"Not too hungry, Kyrano. But she did send her thanks." Scott turned his attention to Brains. "When do you think she'll be okay to go home?"

"Uh, t-tomorrow, I think," Brains answered without looking up. "She should be re-rehydrated soon and the, uh, burn salve should lessen the severity of her sunburn b-by morning."

"Thanks, Brains," Scott replied. He sat and had a leisurely breakfast, enjoying the mixture of eggs, potatoes, peppers, onions, cheddar, and seasonings that was Kyrano's Farmer's Scramble. Then he refilled his coffee cup, and left, heading for the lounge. He climbed the stairs and entered the lounge through the study, locking the door behind him. Virgil was already there, playing something repetitive on the piano and laughing quietly to himself.

"What's so funny?" Scott asked as he settled himself behind the desk.

"Lou. Did you know that she's a Victor Borge fan? I've been trying to remember some of the jokes he pulled when he was playing the piano. There was one where he would play a part of a string of requested numbers and each of the separate tunes would degenerate into 'Happy Birthday'."

"I didn't know that about Lou. Did she say anything else about herself?"

"Only that while she can read music, she doesn't play any instruments. And she sings in private. Said her cats run away when she starts singing. Oh, and she recognized Penelope in her role as fashion model."

"How much did she see in here?" Scott's voice turned concerned.

Virgil shrugged. "Not much. She looked at the portraits and asked who John was and where he was. Admired the rocket. Didn't even give the desk a second glance. Then we talked about music. That's pretty much it."

"Still, that's more than I got out of her," Scott huffed. "She wouldn't even tell me what 'Lou' stood for. Said it was 'laugh provoking'." He bent the first two fingers of both hands into "quotation" crooks.

"Maybe Gordon's right. Maybe it _does_ stand for Ludmilla," Virgil suggested with a grin.

Scott shook his head and opened up communications with John. "Base to Thunderbird Five. Come in, John."

John's portrait became a live feed picture of the space station interior, but for a moment, no one was there. Then John appeared and sat down before the camera, his mouth full of cereal from the bowl in his hand. He chewed as quickly as he could and then swallowed.

"Thunderbird Five to base. Good morning, Scott." He shoved another wet spoonful in and crunched.

"And good morning to you, too. Aren't you eating a little late here?" his older brother asked.

John tried to talk around the cereal, but found it impossible. He finished masticating the cereal, and took a gulp of juice from a glass that sat out of camera range, then said, "Yes, I am. I started a search last night for your missing plane and it came up positive on the GPS. I was doing some cross-referencing on the coordinates and the morning got away from me."

"You found it? That's great!" Scott said enthusiastically. He shot a look at Virgil, who moved from the piano closer to the desk.

"Hi, Virge," John said before taking on another load of food and chomping vigorously.

"Hey, John," Virgil greeted his brother.

John took another swig of juice, then put down the bowl. "I'm downloading the coordinates to you, Scott. The mayday might have registered more strongly but the signal seems to be weak. You might like to know that there was a storm front passing by overhead when the plane went down."

Scott nodded. "She said she was caught in a storm."

"I also have the plane's registry numbers if you want them. I might be able to dig up some air traffic control talkback..." John offered.

"Yeah, would you try, John? And I'd like the numbers, too, please," Scott said looking thoughtful.

"What do you plan on doing with this information?" Virgil asked. There was a moment of silence. John studied Scott, interested to see what his brother's answer would be.

Finally, Scott sighed. "I'm not sure. I've half a mind to have Gordon go out with Thunderbird Four and take a look around. See if he can figure out what happened to bring the plane down." He shook his head. "She seems to be a responsible, mature lady. The kind that wouldn't ditch in the sea without a good reason."

"Dad wouldn't like that, Scott, and you know it," Virgil warned. "If there was a rescue requiring Gordon and Thunderbird Four and he was out chasing this downed plane..."

"I know, Virge, I know," Scott replied irritably. "I just hate this mystery. I know I know this woman from somewhere!"

"Well, I'll get back to work and see if I've got any talkback, though it's doubtful I do. The system dumps all unnecessary recordings after 72 hours," John said, picking up his bowl again. "Ugh. Soggy cereal. I think a fresh bowl is in order. What did you guys have for breakfast? Or don't I want to know?"

"Farmer's Scramble," Virgil said with a grin.

John made a face. "Oooh. Rub it in, why don't you? I'll have to see if I have a package of that in the cryofreezer, now. It's not as good reheated but still, it's better than soggy cereal. I can hardly wait to get back home! The cupboard is getting a little bare up here."

"The end of the week, Johnny, I promise," Scott said with a smile.

"Even if our Ms. Myles is still there?" John asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Our Ms. Myles will be back to home and hearth by then, John. She's as eager to go home as we are to see her go."

"Too bad you won't get to meet her, John," Virgil piped up. "She does seem to be a nice lady. Friendly but not overly nosy."

"Well, since she's not a nubile young bit of arm candy, I'll pass," John returned, smirking. "Talk to you later, guys. Thunderbird Five out." The live picture was replaced with a portrait of John in uniform, and then his casual picture slid down to cover it.

Scott sat down behind his father's desk, put his feet up on the flat top, and pulled out his crossword puzzle. Virgil went back to the piano. After a few minutes, the musician could hear the syncopated beat of the pencil against Scott's chin.

"You're still thinking about sending Gordon out, aren't you?"

Scott squirmed a bit at this mind-reading on Virgil's part. "Yeah. I am. If I could be sure that there wasn't going to be a rescue, and that Dad wouldn't find out..."

"Well, you can't be sure of either, so just drop it," Virgil told him, returning his focus to his music.

Scott huffed, then went back to his crossword. After a moment's silence, he asked, "What's a three-letter word for 'Your parent's sister in Milan'?"

Virgil thought for a moment and replied, "Zia, I think."

"Ah, yes. That fits nicely. Thanks."


	5. Virgil presents a concert

_Author's Note: _A big thanks to Hobbeth for betareading, and also to Math Girl and ArtisticRainey for encouragement. Now, to my reviewers:

**Meercat: **Clues, clues, clues. I wonder which clue you picked up on?

**Claudette: **You're welcome! Yes, Lou has some secrets that she's not revealing, and she likes being mischievous. As to the rest, stay tuned....

**thunderbirdgirl:** Thanks for the compliment! I'm glad you're enjoying it.

**killhill2003:** I'm sorry, but as Lou told Scott, "Wheedling will get you nowhere." Lou's identity will be revealed... all in good time.

**KitKat TicTac:** I'm sorry you're finding this so annoying, but there are lots more clues to come. Please stick with it; you may be surprised.

**Lothliana: **I was going to update every other day (I've got this written through chapter 8 and am working on chapter 9, with bits and pieces written beyond it), but for you, and all my readers, I'll post every day until I run out of chapters. Then it will be waiting on my muse.

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

Tin-Tin and Alan returned mid-afternoon with Ladybird full of bags and parcels. 

"Is this all for Lou?" Virgil asked with a grin.

Alan shook his head wearily. "No, some of it is Tin-Tin's. I'm surprised that we didn't take all day with all the stores we went to and all the clothes she tried on."

Tin-Tin smiled serenely. "The mark of a good shopper is to hit as many places as you can in as little time as possible. Now, I'll just take some of these parcels down to Lou and she can get changed into something decent."

By dinner time, Brains had declared Lou to be rehydrated to his satisfaction, had removed her IV, and had released her from the sick room. She was promptly installed in a guest room, where she showered and changed clothes. From there she called her sister.

"Lou? Are you all right? You look... fried," Shelly said with a frown as she saw her sister's face.

"I'm doing better, Shell. Thanks for giving the Tracys the information that they needed," Lou replied.

"Tracy? I know I've heard you mention that name before. Are those the same ones...?" Shelly began to ask.

Lou cut her off. "Yes, they are. And I was very surprised to find them living out in the middle of the Pacific, miles and miles from nowhere. Look, I'll tell you all the details when I get home and settled, okay?"

"When will that be?" Shelly asked. "Mrs. Mason called me today and wanted to know."

"I think they're talking about flying me out tomorrow, their time. Which will bring me home, oh, today your time. I'll be crossing that dratted international date line. It always screws me up." Lou made a face. "Let Mrs. M. know that I'll call her when I hit L.A. and give her a better ETA." She sighed. "I can hardly wait to get home to my cats and my own bed!"

"I'm so glad you're okay, Lou. When I heard that they'd found you, I didn't know what to think! You should know that I have_ not _heard from your workplace," Shelly stated, her countenance severe. "I can't understand why they haven't contacted me."

"It doesn't matter, sis. I'm sure there will be a thorough investigation of the matter when I tell them what happened. I just hope they don't decide to dock my pension for the cost of the plane!" Lou returned, trying to soothe and cajole her sister into a better frame of mind. When she saw the wry smile on Shelly's face, she knew she had succeeded. "Listen, hon. I can hear them calling. Dinner must be ready. I'll talk to you soon."

"Okay, Lou. I'll be waiting. Love you, little sister," Shelly said.

"Right back at you, big sis," Lou said with a smile. "Bye for now!"

The call ended, and Lou sighed. Then she ran a brush (courtesy of Tin-Tin) through her now-dry hair and went out to the dining room.

When Lou joined the rest of the family at the table, Scott decided she looked much better than she had the day before and there was a change for the better from even that morning. Though some of it, he admitted to himself, was probably due to the fact that she was dressed more appropriately. A lightweight, short sleeved, white cotton blouse and a pair of tan linen slacks made her look cool and comfortable. She had brown sandals on her feet, and her skin was starting to look more tanned than burned. Her hair, freshly washed and dried, was darker and attractively wavy with a stray curl that hung over her forehead.

"That outfit looks nice on you, Lou," Tin-Tin said with a smile.

"Thanks, Tin-Tin. You have excellent taste," Lou responded, smiling as Brains pulled out her chair for her. "I'll wear the other shoes and add a sweater when you take me home. March is still a little chilly in the mountains of North Carolina."

"Hey, that's right. I'd forgotten about the seasonal swap," Alan said. "No wonder why Tin-Tin was buying sweaters for Lou!"

"Oh, Alan!" Tin-Tin exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "Sometimes you don't see past the end of your nose."

The diners all laughed, then as Kyrano brought out salads to whet the appetite for the rest of the meal, the conversation turned to differences between the Northern and Southern Hemispheres. By the time the main course of steak, baked potatoes, and steamed vegetables arrived, the topic had turned to Lou's departure.

"We'll get airborne after breakfast, if that's okay with you, Lou," Alan said. It had been decided that of the Tracys, he could best be spared. Tin-Tin had been deputized as co-pilot, a situation that Scott was not happy with, but one that he couldn't see any way around. He didn't want Lou to have to fly so soon after ditching her plane; there was no telling what her reactions might be or if she would have flashbacks. He was much happier with the thought of her being merely a passenger.

"I'm fine with it as long as... Brains... gives me the a-okay," Lou responded.

"Mister Scott?" Kyrano said quietly in Scott's ear.

"Yes, Kyrano?"

"I would like a word with you after dinner, please."

"Certainly."

Dinner was full of animated chatter, with the Tracy boys telling Lou tales about when they were younger and the trouble they got into.

"And Scott just hung there from that skinny tree limb, hollering 'Help!' at the top of his lungs!" Virgil said with a chortle. "Finally, some kind soul came along with a ladder and helped him down. John and I were laying bets as to which would fail first, his grip or the branch!"

Lou laughed, then sipped her water. Her eyes were on Virgil, but she didn't see him._ I remember hearing about that one. I got an email giving me all the gory details. What a handful this bunch were when they were young. Maybe they wouldn't have gotten into so much trouble if.... _

Her train of thought was derailed by a concerned Gordon asking, "Lou? Lou, are you all right?"

Startled, she brought her mind back to the present. "Hmm?" she asked, looking around.

"You were out in space somewhere there for a minute and you looked so sad," Virgil explained.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Your story just triggered a memory of my own," she replied.

"Not a happy one, I take it?" Gordon asked.

"Oh, no, Gordon. The memory was a happy one. It just led to some other, more wistful ones, that's all," Lou responded, smiling. Gordon nodded, satisfied with her answer.

Virgil cleared his throat. "Ahem. I have an announcement. As a goodbye gift to our guest, I'd like to play some selections from the repertoire of Victor Borge this evening in the lounge after dinner."

"Oh, Virgil! You don't have to!" Lou declared, surprised and delighted.

"I want to, Lou. Ever since I talked with you last evening, I swear he's been haunting me! I've had nothing but his jokes running through my head all day. I don't do a very good Danish accent, but maybe if I play his stuff for you all, he'll leave me alone!"

The group laughed, and finished up their meal with coffee and apple pie à la mode.

"Kyrano, is this one of Grandma's pies?" Scott asked as he tucked into seconds.

The retainer smiled. "Yes, it is. She left it in the cryofreezer for you to enjoy while she was away."

"I thought so," Scott said smugly. He leaned over toward Lou. "Our grandmother makes the best apple pies in either hemisphere!"

_Yes, I know!_ Lou caught herself before the thought became words and instead said, "It's delicious! Such a light crust!"

After dinner, the group meandered into the lounge for Virgil's impromptu concert, except for Scott, who made his way to the kitchen. "What's on your mind, Kyrano?" he asked.

"I find myself in need of some foodstuffs from the US mainland. I was wondering if I could fly with Mr. Alan and Tin-Tin to Los Angeles tomorrow as they return Ms. Myles to her home."

Scott's face lit up. Here was the answer to his concerns. "Sure, Kyrano. Go ahead. We can take care of ourselves for a day or so. You can fly the first lap and let the other two fly from L.A. to Asheville and back. Make sure they have a layover when they get back to L.A., too." He leaned in and said more softly. "I'm glad you spoke up. I was a bit worried about the two of them flying there and back together... alone...."

"That was my concern as well, Mr. Scott," Kyrano admitted. "My presence should forestall any youthful... indiscretions."

"Well, now that that's settled, I guess I'd better head up to the lounge. Are you coming?"

"I will be there directly."

When Scott arrived, the concert was well under way and Virgil was telling a story about a Mozart opera, complete with the singing voices of the various members of the cast. The "messy soprano" sang a "die-aria", which sent Lou and Tin-Tin into fits of giggles. The "chorus" was dressed in "some cheap kind of underwear" and when they came in, the lights were lowered so that the costumes couldn't be seen. This meant that the members of the chorus "came in and fooled around in the dark", a double-entendre that made Gordon and Alan guffaw. Even Brains laughed when Virgil talked about the baritone who came in and sang, "To-ray-odoor, to-raaay-odoor," but left because "he realized he was in the wrong opera."

When the description of the "opera" was over and the soprano had "stabbed herself between the two big... trees!", Virgil switched gears to play something sweet and lyrical that had Lou smiling a sad smile.

_He played that just as she would have, with the same gentle touch caressing the keys. I wonder if he knows how much like her he really is._

Eventually, Virgil stopped trying to sound like the Great Dane and moved on to other pieces, including one that made Lou really sit up and take notice.

_I know that piece! **She** wrote it!_ she thought to herself. And when Virgil had finished playing, she commented, "That's a beautiful tune, Virgil. Who was the composer?"

Virgil looked down at his hands, then raised his eyes to Lou's, a sad smile on his face. "Our late mother wrote it when we were very small. I don't get to play it much; only when Father is away. It makes him very sad to hear it."

"That's too bad," Lou replied. "It's a lovely song."

There was a long, awkward moment where no one spoke, then Lou said, "Virgil? Would you play 'Liebestraum' for me?"

That broke the ice and Virgil gave Lou a wry look. " 'Liebestraum', huh?" he asked. "Straight or Borge style?"

"Straight. I don't think I've ever heard it played straight," Lou replied.

"Sure. I think I remember it." He paused a moment to collect his thoughts, then launched into the piece. His fingers glided over the keys as he let his memory of the score take possession of his hands. Faces around the room took on looks of appreciation at his skill and technique. Lou smiled broadly, the laugh lines around her eyes crinkling up into slight folds. At last the song ended, and those in the room burst into applause.

"Oh, thank you, Virgil!" Lou exclaimed. "That was lovely!"

"You're welcome, Lou. Thank you for the compliment. I must have been channeling Victor tonight to do as well as I did. It's been a long time since I've learned that piece," Virgil said with a grin.

"It sounded like you had practiced all afternoon," Tin-Tin added. "It was marvelous, Virgil."

"Well," said Alan, "at the risk of being a party pooper, I'm headed to bed. We're heading out rather early and I've still got preflight checks to do." He rose to leave. "Goodnight all."

"Goodnight, Alan," said Scott, who was surreptitiously watching Lou, and saw her pale beneath the healing burn at the mention of preflight checks. _I wonder if she did her own or relied on someone else to do them for her._

"G-goodnight, Alan," echoed Brains. He turned to Lou. "I s-suggest you turn in, uh, early, also. Y-You'll have a g-good deal of jet lag to d-deal with."

"I think I'll take that advice," Lou said. "Thank you all for this evening and all you've done for me. Goodnight."

The others in the lounge said their goodnights to her, and a few moments later, Tin-Tin left the lounge for her own bed. Scott locked down the lounge, and headed for his father's desk.

"Now that we've seen her in a less dire situation, what do you all think of Lou?"

"I don't think she's been entirely candid with us," Gordon responded, dropping into a seat and draping a leg over one of the chair's arms. "But I don't think she's dangerous. Just private."

"She's not been nosy about us, either, which I've appreciated," Virgil added. "She didn't even ask what happened to Mother."

"Or why your playing that piece made Father sad," Scott mused. "I find that odd."

"Sh-She might have seen that as, uh, p-prying," Brains offered.

"Mr. Alan did mention that one or two of the women who have been... uninvited guests... were tabloid reporters," Kyrano pointed out. "Perhaps she wishes to make it clear that she is not a member of that group by curbing her curiosity."

"And maybe she's just being a polite guest," Virgil said, shaking his head at their conversation. "Especially considering that she _is_ uninvited. And that she doesn't seem to want to get more entangled with us than she already is."

"True. She's going home tomorrow and we'll probably never see her again," Scott admitted. "Though I wish...."

"That you could remember where you've seen her before, I know," Virgil said with a snort. "Just leave it, Scott."

"Yeah. Not every mystery is meant to be solved, you know," Gordon added.

"I'll try," Scott said, sighing. He looked at his watch. "Who's got night watch?"

"I do," Gordon replied.

"Okay. Thanks, Gords. Anybody for a game of pool?" Scott offered.

"I'm in." "I-I'll play." "I fear I must decline. I must finish my duties in the kitchen."

"Good enough. Meet you two down in the games room. Gords, the desk is all yours."

"Gee, thanks, Scott."

The four men left the room, Kyrano for the kitchen, and Scott, Virgil, and Brains for their date with the pool table. Gordon locked the study after them, then closed and locked the balcony door, which had been left open for some fresh air. Then he settled in behind his father's desk and toggled the switch that brought John's video screen to life.

"Hey, bro!"

"Hi, Gords! Thanks for leaving the audio open so I could hear Virge's concert. He was in primo form tonight."

"Yeah, he was. Did you hear Scott's little discussion?"

"Yeah, I did. Did he tell you that I dug up coordinates for her plane?"

"No, he didn't! Wish he had! I could have gone out in Four to investigate."

"Virge reminded him that Dad might frown on such an investigation, so he squelched the urge."

"Hmm." Gordon looked thoughtful. He turned to John. "Any idea when Dad will be back?"

"I think he's going to be Stateside for a couple more days. I figure that Alan might get back from the States before he and Grandma do." John frowned at his younger brother. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I might try and persuade Scott to let me go out and take a look-see. It's been quiet rescue-wise, and I'm not always needed. It wouldn't take too long, not at Four's speeds."

"Good luck, bro. You know he doesn't want to get in trouble with Dad."

"Yeah. I know. But his curiosity is just eating him up. I think I can talk him round to my point of view. Especially if I talk to him without Virge around."

"Again I say, good luck," John told him. "And I sincerely hope that Alan gets back in time to make the trip up here. I refuse to wait one extra hour for him!"

Gordon laughed. "Sounds like you're eager to get back."

"I am always eager to get home!" John shot back. "Now, tell me what else has been going on down there."

"Okay, okay." Gordon leaned back in his father's chair and proceeded to shoot the breeze with his astronaut brother.


	6. Alan takes flight

_Author's Note: _A big thanks to Hobbeth for betareading, and also to Math Girl and ArtisticRainey for encouragement. Now, to my reviewers:

**Amanda Tracy: **My best work ever? I blush! But I figure, with all the stuff we've written together elsewhere, you should know. And I did cough it up, even before I got your review!

**Girl-Detective: **Thank you for the compliment. Victor Borge was a treasure and is sorely missed. As for the plane? Read on.

**Claudette: **You're getting warmer! You've got a couple guesses right, and one in particular as you'll see in this chapter.

**Kitkat TicTac: **Now here I thought you knew! ;) Sorry if you think I'm mean, and you'll probably still think I am, but I have updated. :)

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

"Ready to go, Lou?" Alan called back from the cockpit, where he was acting as co-pilot. 

"Whenever you are, Alan," Lou answered with a smile.

The morning for departure was finally here. Brains gave Lou a final once-over and declared her fit to travel home. So, after breakfast, she had packed up the clothes that Tin-Tin had brought in a small satchel, also courtesy of Tin-Tin, and climbed aboard one of the Tracy family's private SST jets. It was a luxuriously comfortable plane, the best that money could buy, and Lou found herself relaxing in her plush seat. Tin-Tin sat across the aisle from her, while Kyrano took the pilot's seat. She had begged pen, paper and envelope from him that morning and she meant to spend some of her travel time writing a thank you note to her absent host. A smile came to her lips when she thought about what she might say in the missive.

The plane lifted into the air smoothly and made a turn around the island before heading out to sea. Lou looked out her window, now able to see the entirety of the place where she had spent the past two days.

"The island is much more lush than it appears from the sea," she said quietly. She turned to Tin-Tin. "No wonder Mr. Tracy decided to make his home here. It's like paradise."

Tin-Tin smiled. "A paradise without serpents. But not without dangers. Or spiders. Large ones, at that."

Lou regarded her companion thoughtfully. "Forgive my curiosity, but how did you and your father meet the Tracys?"

Tin-Tin sat back, and stared into space for a moment. "Oh, that's a long story. The gist of it is that my father was working as a botanist in the Royal Gardens at Kew, in England. While he was there, he also developed a protein-filled synthetic food base, derived from plants. The Space Agency was interested in it, and invited him to the States to talk to him about it. While he was there, he met Mr. Tracy. They became good friends in a short time. Then Father went back to England, and eventually on to Paris, where he was able to indulge in his other love, cooking. He met my mother there while he was a sous chef at the Hilton. After a time, he was promoted to head chef. I was born in Paris, and my mother died there."

Tin-Tin looked down at her hands. "By this time, Mr. Tracy was also a widower and was finding it hard to keep up things at home and with his business, even with Mrs. Tracy's help. He called my father, and arranged for the two of us to visit him in the States. While we were there, he asked my father to stay and help with the running of the household so his mother could return to her farm. My father agreed and, well, there we were. Mr. Tracy was instrumental in my education, paying for every penny so I could go to the best schools for science and technology." _Don't want to tell her that one of the reasons Father came on board is that Mrs. Tracy refused to move to the island!_

"That was generous of him. I take it your father is much more than a servant, isn't he?" Lou asked.

Tin-Tin smiled thinly. "My father serves by his choice. But he is still Mr. Tracy's friend and is both a confidant and an advisor."

"I'm sorry if I offended you, Tin-Tin," Lou said contritely. "I was curious because I could sense that he wasn't just a servant. I could see that he occupied a bigger place in the household than that."

"I accept your apology, Lou." Tin-Tin replied, her smile becoming wider and warmer. "You know, this is the first real curiosity you've shown to any of us."

_Uh-oh! How do I get out of this? I can't tell her... okay, keep calm. Tell her a bit of truth._ "Well, everyone has heard of Jeff Tracy and his family, and Scott and the others, well, they're all brothers and you can see it in the way they interact. But you and your father's relationship to the family piqued my interest, as has... Brains's place in the household." Lou shook her head and made a face. "Really! That's such an absurd name! Is his real name really that bad?"

Tin-Tin beckoned Lou closer, and whispered in her ear. Lou's eyes widened and she grinned. She nodded to Tin-Tin and said wryly, "You're right. That _is_ pretty bad. I won't complain about 'Brains' any more." _Good. Now I have his name and I can do some digging..._

The flight time to Los Angeles went quickly, and when they reached the airport, Lou got out and stretched. She watched as Tin-Tin embraced her father, then Kyrano came over to her and made a formal bow. "It has been an honor having you with us, Ms. Myles. I hope the rest of your journey will fare well."

Lou returned the bow. "Thank you, Kyrano. I have enjoyed your hospitality. It's not every day that I am served a meal by the head chef of one of Paris's most prestigious hotels."

Kyrano smiled. "You have been talking to Tin-Tin about me. If we had time, I would tell you some stories about her that would make her blush. However, I must leave and I see Mr. Alan is anxious to refuel and be off into the air again. Goodbye, Ms. Myles."

"Goodbye, Kyrano."

Tin-Tin walked her father to the Tracy Industries hangar-terminal, then returned quickly. "I'm going to help Alan with refueling and a quick recheck of the plane's systems. There's a lounge in the hangar area if you'd like to use the facilities," she offered.

Lou shook her head. "I'm fine. The sooner we get airborne, the sooner I get home."

Tin-Tin smiled widely. "Then I'll hurry Alan along. Sometimes he starts talking with the mechanics and loses track of time."

"Don't skimp on the checks on my account," Lou said hurriedly. "I wouldn't want anything... to... happen..." A sudden vision of the Pacific rising up at her, the waves tossing and heaving as she fought with the stalled plane filled her mind and she gasped, her face paling.

"Lou?" Tin-Tin asked, taking hold of Lou's shoulder and looking her in the eye. It took a moment, but finally Lou shook herself and her current surroundings registered.

"I'm... okay now," she said haltingly. "A bit of a flashback, that's all. I expect I'll have more of them." She turned her gaze to Tin-Tin. "Please do not skimp on the flight checks. I'd like to be sure of getting home."

"Of course," Tin-Tin replied, rubbing Lou's upper arm soothingly. "Why don't you go to the lounge and get a cup of good, strong coffee or tea. By the time you're finished with it, we'll be ready."

"I think I will after all. I should call home anyway," Lou agreed. Tin-Tin walked her halfway to the lounge, then returned. Alan met her as she came back.

"Let's be as thorough as we can, Alan," she said, looking back at Lou as she disappeared inside. "Lou just had a flashback to her accident."

"All right. We'll take the time," Alan agreed. "But I'm beginning to wonder if what happened was really an accident."

"Scott's gotten to you, hasn't he?" Tin-Tin said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"He's got a point, Tin-Tin," Alan said as he checked the pressure and tread on the landing gear wheels.

"Let's just get on with it, Alan. See the lady safely home and then head back to L.A." Tin-Tin sighed and smiled. "I want to get in some shopping before we leave the States."

Alan groaned, and covered his face with his hand, muttering, "Not more shopping!"

Within a half hour, they were once again on their way. Alan had taken over the pilot's chair, and Tin-Tin rode shotgun as co-pilot. Lou, left to her own devices, began to write her letter to Jeff Tracy. She smiled as she wrote it, occasionally even chuckling, a sound that neither Alan nor Tin-Tin heard. When her letter was finished, she folded it and put it in the envelope, then put Jeff's name on the front, with one instruction: "To be opened in the presence of his sons, particularly Scott." Then she leaned back and closed her eyes.

The next thing she knew, they were touching down at the Asheville airport, and taxiing over to the small plane terminal.

"Uhh." Lou groaned as she levered herself out of her seat. "I must have fallen asleep."

"You did," remarked Alan, grinning. "We could hear you sawing logs all the way up here!"

Tin-Tin nudged him hard in the ribs. "Alan! That's not polite!"

Lou laughed. "Don't worry about it, Tin-Tin. I'm already aware that I snore!"

Alan unsealed the plane, and the three of them piled out. "A bit of a chilly wind here," Tin-Tin remarked, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Yes. Spring comes later to the mountains," Lou replied, taking a deep, appreciative breath. "Oh, God, it's so good to be home."

"Sorry that we have to use the public terminal," Alan said. "Tracy Industries doesn't exactly have a presence in this city."

"You can't be everywhere," Lou responded. "Oh! There's Mrs. Mason! When we hit Los Angeles, I called and asked her to come pick me up. Hi, Mrs. M.!"

A young, dark-skinned woman turned at Lou's call and smiled widely, her teeth white against her skin. Her hair was in thin braids that sat close to her scalp and were gathered at the nape of her neck, continuing down in a bunch to past her shoulder blades. She was dressed in jeans and a brown polo shirt with the emblem, "Mason's Pet Sitting Service" embroidered on the left below the collar.

"Miz Myles! Oh, am I glad to see you! Poor Spot is drooling away in my van with carsickness, and I'm afraid Snowball has soiled her case again!" Mrs. Mason called in a strong Southern drawl.

Lou laughed loudly, and embraced the woman. "I'm missing in action for two days and when I finally show up, all I hear about is my cats! How are you, Jadzia?"

"I'm fine... Lou. Looks like you got yourself one heavy duty tan there!" Jadzia Mason replied.

"Yes, a bad sunburn that's finally petered out to a tan. I'll tell you all about it later. I'd like you to meet two of the people who were instrumental in taking good care of me. Jadzia Mason, meet Alan Tracy and Tin-Tin Kyrano. Alan, Tin-Tin, this is my mysterious Mrs. Mason, the best pet sitter in the whole county."

"Nice to meet you all," Jadzia said as she shook hands with Alan and Tin-Tin.

"Likewise," Alan answered. He put his hands in his pockets, then rocked back on his heels. Glancing over at Lou, he said, "Well, it looks like it's time."

"Yes. It does, doesn't it?" Lou said with a soft smile. She held out her hand to Alan, who took it, then she pulled him towards her to give him a peck on the cheek. "Thanks, Alan, for flying me home. You take care on the way back now."

"I will, Lou," he promised.

Lou and Tin-Tin hugged each other. "Thanks for all that you did, Tin-Tin. I won't forget it. If you are ever in Asheville again, look me up and I'll show you the sights."

"I will," Tin-Tin replied.

Lou fumbled in the pocket of her sweater and came out with her envelope. "Will you see to it that Mr. Tracy gets this? It's just a little note of thanks for my absent host."

"Sure," the Malaysian replied, quickly reading the front of the envelope then giving Lou a questioning look.

But no explanation was forthcoming. Lou turned to Jadzia. "Shall we go?" The two walked away, giving a last wave to Alan and Tin-Tin as they went. Then the doors to the outside opened, and they were gone.

"Well, that's done!" Alan said, turning and putting an arm around Tin-Tin's shoulders. "Nice to have a 'beach find' that was so eager to get back to her own place."

"Do you think we'll ever see her again, Alan?" Tin-Tin asked, slipping the letter into her handbag.

Alan shook his head. "No, probably not. Not unless we visit out this way again." He looked back briefly. "She was good company while she was with us and I'm glad we were able to help her when she needed help."

"Me, too. Now, sir, let's get the plane refueled for the flight back to Los Angeles. I have some shopping to do!" Tin-Tin took his hand and ran for their plane, dragging him along behind her.

Meanwhile, on Tracy Island, Gordon was talking to Scott.

"I was thinking last night..." he began.

"Always a dangerous pasttime with you," Scott quipped, interrupting. Gordon frowned and shook his head.

"Do you want to hear my idea or not?" he asked grumpily.

"What is it, a new prank? And you need my help because Alan's not here?" Scott asked.

"No. I was talking with John last night, and I thought that maybe I should go out and take a gander at Lou's plane. See if I can find out what made it go down."

Scott blinked. And blinked again. "What did you just say?"

"That maybe I should go down and find Lou's plane. Find out why she had to ditch."

"Have you mentioned this idea to Virgil?"

Gordon grinned. "Nah. He's busy up on the promontory, painting. What he's painting up there, I haven't a clue. But that's where he is."

"Hmmm," Scott hummed. His eyes narrowed. "How long would it take you?"

Gordon looked up at the ceiling. "With Thunderbird Four's speeds? Three hours there and back, tops." He paused. "And I'd take Brains with me, too. That way if there was an emergency, Virgil could pick me up at sea and Brains could bring Four back to base."

"Sounds like you've thought this all out," Scott remarked.

Gordon smiled proudly. "Yep."

"Why?"

Gordon was startled by the question. "Why? Because I'm as curious as you are about Lou and her story. And if I can figure out why she went down, we'll know a little bit more about her, don't you think? We'd at least know if she was washed up by accident or not."

Scott took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He paused for a moment, looking at Gordon keenly, noting the eagerness underlying his brother's blasé façade. Then he nodded.

"Go. Keep communications open and if there's an emergency, head back right away. I'll hold the fort."

"F-A-B!" Gordon replied smartly. He saluted Scott, then turned on his heel and all but marched from the room.

"I hope you find us some answers, Gords," Scott muttered as he watched his brother go.

Gordon took the monorail down to the lab, knocking on the door before entering. One never knew exactly what was going on inside that room, and more than once an untimely, unannounced entrance had resulted in some catastrophe to whatever Brains was working on.

"C-Come in," Brains's voice called from within.

Gordon opened the door, and stuck his head in. Brains was at his computer, typing so fast that the tapping sounded more like a machine gun than typing.

"What d-did he say?" Brains asked without looking up.

"He said we're go!" Gordon informed him, coming all the way into the lab.

"Let me finish this a-and I'll be there," Brains responded.

"Right. I'll get Four out of the pod and ready to roll!"

"Roll is not the operative w-word. F-Float is more..." Brains stopped when he heard the lab door close. "Sometimes he m-moves too fast."

Twenty minutes later, Thunderbird Four zipped down the airstrip on its hoverjets and plunged into the lagoon. Once in the water, Gordon revved the engines to maximum speed, and the littlest Thunderbird sped through the water.

"Did you t-take your, uh, pill?" Brains asked from the fold down seat behind Gordon.

He nodded. "Yeah. Did you take one?"

"I-I don't think I'll b-be, uh, diving," Brains said. He frowned. "Or w-will I?"

"I don't think so, but it wouldn't hurt, Brains. Just in case," Gordon replied.

"P-Point taken." Brains got up and opened the first aid kit. He popped an anti-bends pill into his mouth and opened a small bottle of drinkable water to wash it down. "You'll n-need to restock your, uh, p-potable water supply."

"Uh, thanks, Brains. I'll remember to do that," Gordon replied, his mind more on his piloting than on what the genius was trying to tell him.

They sailed on for about an hour, checking in at regular intervals with both Scott and John. Scott looked worried, like someone who was about to get caught with their hand in the cookie jar. John, however, sounded like this was some great big treasure hunt. It was he who gave the final coordinates on where the plane had come to rest.

"So, do you see it yet? I'm getting a strong signal from there now, but it's not a mayday," John reported.

"No, I don't... hey! Brains, come look at this!" Gordon exclaimed.

The engineer got up and looked out over Gordon's shoulder. "It's a c-cable of some kind," he stated.

"Yeah, and I have a feeling I know what we're going to find at one end of it. I'm going to look there first and see if I'm right."

Brains sat back down as Gordon angled Thunderbird Four's bow upward, toward the surface. The yellow submarine popped up from beneath the waves and rear thrusters pushed her along toward the thing that was bobbing serenely on the light waves.

"It's a salvage buoy," Gordon said with a frown. "But... why is it here?" He toggled a switch on his telecomm. "John... the signal you're getting? Could it be from a salvage buoy?"

"Yeah, Gords. It's on that wavelength," John said with a nod. "I don't know how they found it though. The mayday from the plane was pretty weak, even for Earth based detectors."

"Hmph." Gordon snorted out a breath. "Well, let's go down and take a look at this plane. Ready, Brains?"

"F-A-B," Brains said mildly. Gordon snorted again, and sent his Thunderbird back beneath the waves.

They followed the cable down into the murky depths, the cable a slender-looking cord in the glare of Four's lighting trough. Finally, they found the end of it, attached, as Gordon suspected it would be, to a small jet plane.

"The buoy is attached to the plane, all right," Gordon complained to John and Scott.

"So?" Scott replied. "That means you can't move it. Which is not what you're there to do anyway. Now, get a move on. Virgil won't be on the promontory forever, and if I know him, he'll blab to Dad if he knows you're out there."

Gordon sighed. "Okay, okay. I'll put on the deep sea equipment and take a look."

"G-Gordon. The n-nose of the plane is open," Brains said. He had risen from his seat again and was looking out into the depths.

"You're right, Brains. Wonder what that means?" Gordon asked.

"I-I can think of one thing," Brains offered.

"What?"

"I'd r-rather you, uh, went out to look," the scientist said. "I can t-tell you what to look for when you, uh, are there."

"Okay, Brains. I'll go out."

Gordon proceeded to don the deep sea diving equipment. It was his own design and had been tested in more than one rescue situation. Then he stepped into the airlock.

"I'm ready, Brains."

Brains, now in the pilot's seat, opened the vents to let the airlock fill with water. The water came in from the bottom of the chamber; to just open the hatch at the top would cause the airlock to flood with enormous pressure, crushing the diver and pushing Thunderbird Four downward. Gordon felt a slight pressure as the tiny room filled with seawater, then his feet left the floor as buoyancy kicked in. Then the hatch opened and Gordon swam out. The depth of the water made him feel like he was swimming through molasses, but he moved on until he reached the plane.

"Brains, ask John for the identification letters again?"

Brains relayed the message and received an answer. "Uh, November India Zulu Zero Two Five Nine."

"That's it. Same plane." Gordon moved over to the nose of the craft to look inside, the light he had strapped to his forearm following his motions. Brains positioned Thunderbird Four closer, so that the engine compartment was brightly lit. He stood up, trying to see the innards of the plane from his vantage point.

"Hmm. Looks like something was removed," Gordon said, pulling out a wire that appeared to have been attached to something at one time.

"Th-The black box. Do you s-see the, uh, black b-box?" Brains asked.

"No, Brains. I don't." All of the Tracy sons, even Gordon, had pilot's licenses and their father had made sure they were all well versed in the mechanics of what made a plane go. "Let me look inside the cockpit and see what's there."

Using the sides of the plane to guide him, he made it to the pilot's side of the cockpit. He ran his light over the dials and indicators then came back to one. He frowned inside the suit and tapped it with a gloved hand.

"Brains, I think I see the problem."

"Wh-What is it?"

"I'll tell you when I get back inside." He finished the rest of his inspection, and returned to Thunderbird Four.

"What's the problem?" Scott's voice came from the speaker as Gordon climbed back into the cockpit.

"What did you find, Gords?" John piped up.

Gordon sighed. "I checked the engine, and as Brains might have told you, the black box was missing. So there's no real way to tell what was going on. But I also took a look at the control panel. Everything was where it should have been, reading zero. Except for the fuel gauge."

"Wh-What?" Brains asked. "What was it, uh, r-reading?"

"Full."

"That doesn't make any sense, Gordon," Scott said. "It should have read less than that. I'm sure she used up some fuel to get to that point."

"Y-You're right, Scott," Brains agreed.

"Yeah. And even though the tanks are full of water now, the gauge would have gone back to zero once the power was out," John added.

"So, what does this tell us?" Gordon asked, already knowing the answer.

"That someone tampered with her fuel gauge," Scott said grimly.

"And w-without the, uh, b-black box, there's no r-real way to prove it," Brains added.

xxxx

Lou unlocked the door, and walked into her house, carrying two of the animal carriers, while Mrs. Mason brought up the rear with two more. Putting the carriers down, she turned to disarm her alarm system, putting a palm up to a small scanner. Reaching down, she released her black male, Midnight, and her black tortie female, Spot. They stretched, exchanged a hiss and a swat, then sauntered off to see if the food dish was full.

"Here, Luci," Mrs. Mason said, putting the other carriers down gently. "You'd better open these up. Moofum's been swatting at my hands all day. Don't know what got the cat into such a tizzy anyway."

"Oh, sure, Mrs. Mason. Uh, how much do I owe you?" Lou asked, moving into the living room/office to pull out a fresh checkbook.

"Well, I kept them just one extra day, that's eight days for four cats... 400, I think," Mrs. Mason replied. Lou smiled; To her, Mrs. Mason was worth the price. She added an extra 50.

"Now, Luci, you know I can't..." Mrs. Mason protested, trying to hand the check back.

"It's for being so flexible, Mrs. M.," Lou explained. "Not too many pet sitters would allow their clients to suddenly change their plans like you do."

"Well, it's not like you could help it," the younger woman said. "I'm just glad that your sister was able to give me a call, that's all." She accepted the check. "Thank you, Luci. You're one of my prime customers."

"Unfortunately, since I'm now retired, I probably won't have as much need of your services," Lucinda replied with a rueful tone. She reached down to release the fluffy gray Moofum from confinement, then opened the carrier door for Snowball, her pure white cat. She then moved the soiled carrier out to the wide front porch.

"I don't believe that one bit," Mrs. Mason said stoutly. "You'll be gallivanting off on vacations and your cats and I will see plenty of each other." She gave Lou a keen look. "Now, will you tell me why you asked me to call you 'Lou' and not 'Luci'?"

"Well, they've known me as 'Lou' and I didn't want them to hear a different name. It would have confused them and they would have started asking uncomfortable questions," Lou explained. "They'll find out the truth when they get home."

"Wellll, if you say so, _Luci_," Jadzia said. The pet sitter reached down to scratch the sleepy Snowball under the chin. "I'll be going now. I'll talk to you again soon."

"Right, Mrs. M. Talk to you soon," Lou echoed as the pet sitter made her way down the porch steps and into her van. She watched as the woman drove away, then stepped back inside the house.

Standing still in the entrance hallway, she closed her eyes and tried to get a feel for her home. It felt... off, like someone had been there in her absence. She made her way to her desk, flipping on the stereo as she did so. Sitting in her desk chair, she watched as the machine came to life. The power button glowed green, and she pressed a hidden stud on the side of the receiver box. In one corner of the receiver's face, a tiny round light began to shine. A red light.

Lou frowned, then sighed. _I might have known. Someone has been here all right, and left behind a souvenir or two. I'd better check the other rooms._

Each of Lou's rooms, even the bathroom, had some sort of music player in it. Not just because she loved music and liked to sing along, no matter how bad her voice was, but for a different purpose entirely. She knew that as a single woman alone in her house, she was given to talking aloud, both to herself and to her cats. And she didn't always think about what she had to say in the privacy of her home. Her frown deepened as she went from room to room, the tiny indicator light on her sound equipment glowing red at each and every stop.

She left the main floor of her home, and navigated the winding stair down to the finished basement, where she kept a small workout area, a workshop, and a storage room. The indicator light on the sound system down there glowed red, too. Opening the player's disk reader, she nodded, closed it, and turned on the music, then reached behind her music player to find a hidden toggle switch. This she pressed, then waited. After a few long minutes, the red light went out and was replaced by a green one. She smiled slightly, then reached under a shelf to run her fingers over a small, glassy black spot, obscured by the shadows cast by the overhead lights. Across the room, a door slid open silently. Moving her bicycle out of the way, she entered a hidden chamber, her very motion turning on the lights inside. It was filled with computer equipment and racks holding row after row of data disks. Even here there was a sound system, and after the door slid shut behind her, she repeated what she had done in every other room of her house. This time the light immediately came up green and she sighed, her tense body relaxing with relief.

"Good. They didn't find this place," she murmured to herself. Sitting down at the computer desk, she opened a hidden drawer and pulled out a small, silver data disk. On it were printed the initials, TJB, and the words, Investigation #223. An altogether non-descript little disk but Lucinda took in a deep breath and shuddered when she thought of the information on it.

"They were looking for you," she said softly to the disk. "But they didn't find you. Which means they'll be back. And now all my suspicions are confirmed. So... it begs the question: what am I to do with you?" She sat and stared at the disk, her mind running through several different scenarios. Finally, she made her decision.

"I guess the first order of business is to look over all the information again. Then, see what I can do to misdirect my adversaries."


	7. Jeff comes home

_Author's Note:_ Okay, folks. Here it is. An answer to the burning question: **_Who is Lou? _**I hope it doesn't disappoint. A big thanks to Hobbeth for betareading, and also to Math Girl and ArtisticRainey for encouragement. Now, to my reviewers:

**Math Girl: **Their curiosity about Lou is almost at an end as things are revealed. And yes, it's nice to see the boys kick back and enjoy themselves.

**killhill2003: **Nope, the serene K gives nothing away.

**ColorRadO:** I'm glad you like the story. You'll have to tell me if your vague idea matches up with the real revelation.

**Lothliana: **Yes, the boys will find out who she really is.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

"Tracy Three requesting permission to land," Tin-Tin called.

Virgil's voice returned, "Permission granted. Put that bird to bed quick. Dad's nearly here."

"Roger that," Tin-Tin said as she made her approach to the island's small airstrip. Within minutes the jet was on the tarmac and taxiing toward the smaller door that was set in the cliff side. It opened, and she eased the plane through it, turning to the right. Scott was there, using lights to guide her into the cavernous room. She ignored the green bulk of Thunderbird Two, standing ready on hydraulic legs, waiting for the next rescue to be called in. With Scott's guidance, she piloted the small craft into its berth and shut down the engines.

"Well, I for one am glad to be home," Alan said as he unbuckled himself from the passenger seat. Kyrano had been Tin-Tin's copilot from Los Angeles.

"As am I," the retainer said as he unfastened his own safety belts. They could hear the sound of the cargo hatch being unsealed as Scott opened it to begin the transfer of foodstuffs to an antigravity float. Kyrano and Alan moved around to help.

"So, your father is on his way home?" Tin-Tin asked as she lent a hand.

"Yeah. We heard from him about ten minutes ago," Scott explained. "He said he was thirty minutes out." He piled the last box on the float. "There. That's all of it." Turning to Alan, he asked, "How did things go with Lou?"

"Smooth as silk," Alan replied with a grin. "She had her cat sitter waiting at the airport when we got to Asheville. The sitter said that one of the cats was carsick! Have you ever heard of a cat being carsick?"

Scott chuckled. "Can't say I have." He sobered. "I have some other news on that front, but it can wait until Dad gets here. He'll want to hear the whole story."

"I'm sure he will," Tin-Tin said, nodding. "Let's get this up to the pantries before your father gets here. Are we ready, Father?"

"Yes, Tin-Tin. All is in order," Kyrano answered. Alan took over maneuvering the float up to the freight elevator that went from Thunderbird Two's hangar to the villa.

Scott didn't see any reason to go back up to the house when his father was due any minute, so he decided to stay in the hangars area and wait. He sauntered into Thunderbird Two's hangar, and saw that the door to pod four, which was sitting next to the pod under Two's fuselage, was open. He wandered over to find out why.

"Hey, Gords," he called as he saw his ginger-haired brother checking the thrusters of his Thunderbird. "Doing post-rescue maintenance?"

"Yeah. Want to make sure she's all set to go for the next outing," Gordon said. "What brings you down here?"

"Alan, Tin-Tin, and Kyrano are back, and Dad and Grandma are due any minute."

"Really? Then I'd better hurry and finish this. There's not much else to do, but I don't want Dad wondering why I'm doing it now. He'll either think we just had a rescue or that I'd been putting it off," Gordon replied, turning back to his work. He paused, then looked up at Scott from where he was crouched. "You gonna tell Dad about what I found?"

Scott let out a deep breath. "Don't know yet. I really shouldn't have let you go. Virge has already pounded_ that _into my head."

In fact, the two brothers had gotten into a shouting match about it when Virgil returned from his excursion to the promontory. The fact that it appeared Lou's plane had been tampered with didn't impress the artist.

"What Gordon found out there is moot!" he had shouted, his face creased into a frown. "What if there had been an emergency call? He would have been needed with Alan gone to the mainland! Dad is going to blow his stack when he finds out!"

Scott winced at the memory. He knew he hadn't had a leg to stand on, especially since Gordon's trip only added to the mystery and didn't solve anything. Suddenly he realized that Gordon was talking to him.

"Scott? Earth to Scotty! Come in, Scott!"

"Oh, sorry about that. What did you say?"

"If you decide to tell Dad, you can tell him that I brought up the idea. No sense you taking the heat for this one."

Scott frowned. "That's not like you, Gordon. Usually you try to wriggle out of blame, especially when there's a prank involved."

"Consider it... a favor," Gordon said with a grin. "One that I will collect on in the near future."

Scott rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Might have known it would have strings attached."

Their byplay was interrupted by Virgil's voice on Scott's telecomm. "Virgil to Scott. Dad has just asked for landing clearance."

Scott grinned at Gordon. "Scott here. I'm on it. See you upstairs in a few minutes." To Gordon he said, "You'd better come back to this later. Dad's on his way in."

"Right." Gordon collected up his tools and hurriedly put them away. "I'm headed upstairs to change. See you later."

Scott acknowledged Gordon's comment with a wave, and then turned his back on the pods and hurried to the smaller hangar door. He pressed his hand to a palm scanner, and the door opened slowly. By the time it was fully open, Jeff's private jet was waiting to enter. Scott guided his father as he had Tin-Tin until the jet was safely stowed in its berth. Then Scott put the lights away and hurried back to the jet with another float. He got back just in time to hear the hiss of the plane unsealing.

"Help your grandmother out, Scott," Jeff said as he stepped onto the concrete floor. "She's not feeling her best."

"Yes, sir," Scott replied as he hurried around to the passenger compartment door. He opened it from the outside and brought some steps over for his grandmother's convenience. She came to the hatchway, and Scott's heart sank to see how... old... she looked. For the first time since she had come to the island, her energetic personality was diminished, and she shuffled like some ancient crone. Her face looked more wrinkled than usual, and she was very pale. Scott stepped up to gently offer his arm as Jeff came around to support her on the other side.

"Hi, Grandma," Scott said with a smile. "Did you get airsick or something? You look a little green around the gills."

"Now, Scott," Jeff said, realizing what Scott was trying to do. "You know that your grandmother is a great flier. The only way she could improve is to sprout wings of her own."

"Hello, Scott. It's so good to see you again," Eleanor Tracy said to her oldest grandson, putting a wrinkled hand to his cheek.

He stooped over to give her a kiss. "I'm so glad you're home, Grandma. I think we ate all of the pies you left in the freezer."

She sighed as she stepped carefully down from the plane. "I'm sorry, Scott, but I'm just not up to baking any pies right now. Maybe later."

Father and son exchanged glances as Jeff put an arm around Eleanor's shoulders, guiding her to the elevators that would take them to the house. Scott followed with the float of luggage and a worried frown on his face.

The lift deposited them on the lower floor of the villa, not far from the sick room and Eleanor's own bedroom. Jeff tried to guide her to the former, but a bit of her usual spunk surfaced.

"Jeff Tracy, I am not going to sleep in the sick room. I got enough of that in Kansas. I am going to sleep in my own bed, and that's that!"

Jeff sighed, then smiled. "Whatever you like, Mother. Come on, let's get you settled in your room then." Together they walked slowly down the hall and into her suite.

Scott, having just come up on the freight lift, overheard his grandmother's comment and his frown grew deeper. _What went on in the States? I need to ask Dad! _

Jeff popped out of his mother's rooms and saw his son standing there with the luggage. "Ah, let me take her bags. Thanks for bringing them up."

Scott put a hand on his father's arm. "Dad, is there something wrong?"

The two sets of blue eyes met, and Scott realized how tired his father looked. "I'll tell you all when I've got her settled. In the lounge, ten minutes."

"Yes, sir," Scott replied. Jeff put a hand on his shoulder, then carried the suitcases into the room. Scott shook his head, and pulled the float to the lift that would take him to the upper floor.

In ten minutes, Jeff entered the lounge to find the rest of the household waiting for him. Even John's concerned face peered out from his communication screen. After exchanging greetings, Jeff sat behind his desk with a weary sigh.

"I'm sure Scott has briefed you on what happened when we got home," Jeff began.

Alan spoke up. "Yes, he did. Dad, what's going on with Grandma?"

"Yeah, Scott said she was pale and leaning on you the whole way up," Gordon added.

"Grandma's condition is the reason I stayed a bit longer in the States than I had planned," Jeff explained. "She went the funeral of one of her good friends, who died peacefully in her sleep. But while she was there, another good friend took sick and died. And on top of all that, she came down with the latest version of the flu and was in the hospital for a few days. I flew out to be with her, and got the doctors to release her so she could come home. I thought that some sunshine and the comforts of home might help her recover faster."

"Oh, that's so sad!" Tin-Tin exclaimed. "To go to one funeral and ending up staying for two!"

"Th-Then ending up sick herself," Brains commented. "She must be p-pretty, uh, depressed." He took off his glasses and cleaned them on a hankerchief. "What s-strain of the flu did she get? And what did the, uh, physicians pr-prescribe?"

"The doctors in Kansas said it was Singapore B strain, and they've given her an anti-viral treatment. I don't remember which one. The bottle is on her nightstand. She was so exhausted from everything that she went straight to bed. She'll probably feel better in the morning."

"I hope so," John said fervently. "I'm looking forward to some of her home cooking when I get back." He shot a look at Kyrano. "No offense meant, Kyrano. You're a great cook, too, but there's just something special about what Grandma makes."

Kyrano smiled slightly. "I take no offense, Mr. John."

Jeff leaned back in his chair. "So, what happened while we were gone? I want a full briefing on any rescues."

The Tracy sons looked at each other. "Well, Dad," Scott began, "we didn't have but one rescue while you were gone."

"Yeah," Gordon said. "It was an unusual one, too."

"Tell me all about it," Jeff said, settling down to hear what his sons had to tell him.

"Well, you see, Gordon and I were walking on the beach, when we saw this figure lying in the sand...." Scott recounted. Jeff closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, then held up a palm to stop his son's story.

"Where is she now?" he asked curtly.

"Asheville, North Carolina," Alan promptly responded.

Jeff blinked. "You mean she actually went... home?"

"Yes, Dad," Virgil said eagerly. "She wasn't our usual... uninvited guest."

"She wasn't?" his father asked. "How so?"

"Well, for one thing, she was middle-aged," Gordon explained. "And she was really in trouble."

"Y-Yes," Brains piped up. "She had, uh, a touch of sunstroke, d-dehydration, and a b-bad sunburn. She was, uh, unconscious when S-Scott and Gordon found her."

"She was very polite," Tin-Tin said with a smile. "I was able to contact her sister right away, and she was eager to go home." She approached the desk and handed Jeff an envelope. "In fact, she asked me to give this to you. A thank you note."

Jeff took out his letter opener and slit the missive open while listening to his sons tell the story.

"The funny thing was that Scott couldn't shake the feeling that he'd met her before," John said.

"That's right," Virgil added. "I got that sense, too. Like I had heard her voice before."

"Did she tell you just how she came to be washed up on our beach?" Jeff asked. Scott shot a look at Gordon, who was fidgeting in his chair.

"Well, yes, she did. It seems she ditched her plane in the sea," Tin-Tin remarked. Jeff noticed the discomfort of his oldest and next to youngest as she continued. "She was on the sea for at least a day before she saw our island and paddled for it. Or... that's what she said."

Jeff sat back, the sheet of paper in his hand, but he wasn't reading it. "Okay, Scott, Gordon. What did you do?"

"Uh, Dad?" John ventured. Jeff turned his attention to the live feed image of his space-bound son. "Maybe I could explain?"

"Go ahead, John."

"Well, Scott wanted to confirm Lou's story...."

"Lou? Who is Lou?"

"Uh, our guest. Her name was Lou," John said. "Well, Scott wanted to confirm her story, so he asked me to see if there was a mayday signal broadcast within range of the island. I went over my communications logs and found one."

"Yes, and he gave me the coordinates," Scott said, jumping into the narrative. "I wanted to get someone out there to see if it was really her plane...."

"But I objected," Virgil said with a scowl. "Strenuously."

Gordon weighed in. "John and I were talking and he mentioned that he found the signal and I decided that it might be a good idea to go out and put Scott out of his misery. He was just so sure he had seen this woman before and kept going on and on about it. So I took Brains out in Thunderbird Four with me...."

"Thunderbird Four?" Jeff asked, a warning tone in his voice.

"Uh, yeah." Gordon put a finger in his collar as if it were too tight. "We found the plane. The black box had been taken out, and it looked like the fuel gauge had been tampered with."

"It confirmed what she said, if nothing else," Scott concluded.

Jeff's eyes narrowed and they flicked from one son to another. "I'll take this up with you two later. In private." Then he settled back to read the letter in his hand. As his eyes scanned the page, he began to smile, then chuckle, then the chuckle turned into actual laughter. The rest of the assembly glanced from one to another and Scott shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"Damn. Lou Myles. Who would have thought...," Jeff said with a grin. He lifted his gaze from the page. "Scott, you of all people! You didn't recognize your Aunt Lucinda?"

"Aunt Lucinda?" Scott rolled the name over his tongue. "Aunt? Dad, you don't have any siblings."

Virgil, who had been mouthing the words "Aunt Lucinda" over and over, looked up with sudden recognition and a laugh. "Oh man! Dad's right! Out of all of us, you should remember Aunt Lucinda, Scott!"

"I see Virgil remembers her. How about you, John?" Jeff asked, turning to the portraits.

John's thoughtful look turned to one of startled enlightenment. "Yes! I remember her now! Lucinda Myles! I thought that the name 'Myles' sounded familiar! But Scott said she wasn't wearing a wedding ring."

"She wasn't," Scott said, still looking puzzled. "I... I just don't remember."

"Here, son. Let me read this note," Jeff said. He put on his reading glasses and began.

_Dearest Jeff,_

_Of all the beaches, on all the islands, in all the South Pacific, I had to wash up on yours._

_Truly, I had no idea that you lived out here. It was pure serendipity that the island I saw in the distance was where you had decided to retire from the rest of the world. What a shock to see your boys, all grown up and still living with their Dad._

_Please apologize to Scott for me. _(Scott's head went up at this.) _I could see in his face that he knew he knew me from somewhere, but I was having too much fun watching him try to figure out just where to actually speak up and say anything. What a letdown it would have been to realize that the woman who he had saved from certain death had once been his babysitter...._

Scott's face was a study in emerging insight. Virgil sat back and laughed openly at him, pointing a finger. Alan and Gordon looked at each other, puzzled, and Alan shrugged.

"Oh no. Oh, God. NOW I remember!" Scott covered his face and groaned. "Aunt Lucinda. She and her husband were your friends, weren't they, Dad? I remember she would babysit when you and Mom wanted to go out...." Scott's reminiscing trailed off as Jeff turned to the vidphone and quickly dialed a number, reading from the paper in front of him. He sat up straight and ran a hand through his hair.

The vidphone rang four or five times and then a familiar voice said, "Hello?"

The people looking on were startled by the change in Jeff's voice; it was hesitant, but deeper. "Hello, Lou."


	8. Jeff and Lou explain

_Author's Note: _According to _The Complete Thunderbirds Story _from the comic books, Lucille and Jeff's father, Grant, died in an avalanche roughly one year before Jeff decided to start IR. In this story, I'm allowing two to three years for the development of the facilities and the crafts and IR has been in business for four years (Jeff is 60), so it's roughly seven years or so after Lucille's and Grant's death. Please keep this in mind as you read this chapter and the rest of the fic. Big thanks to Daria4 for digging up the info that filled in the holes in what I had of the comic bookstory, and to my betareader, Hobbeth, and to Math Girl and ArtisticRainey for encouragement. Oh, and the firm that Lou works for really does have the division she works in. Now, on to my reviewers:

**Claudette: **Well, you're right about her not being THE Lucille: her name, as you've since discovered, is Lucinda. As far as her motives are concerned, both towards the family and Brains, you'll have to wait just a bit longer for that. There's still more story to come before all is revealed.

**ColorRadO: **You are smart, but... I don't always reveal everything in one fell swoop. This chapter will illuminate Lou's relationship to the family even more.

**killhill2003: **You can sleep again! Woo Hoo! I hope the mystery that follows doesn't keep you awake.

**Girl-Detective: **Tease you? Absolutely! And keep your eye on that disk!

* * *

Lou's face, framed in the vidphone's screen, took on a pleased and mischievous look. "Well, hello there, stranger! I see you got my letter." 

"Yes, I did. And my sons have been telling me all about the impromptu visit from their honorary aunt," Jeff returned with a grin. "Now, Lou, there_ had _to have been an easier way for you to pay us a visit...."

"You're probably right, Jeff, except for the fact that I had no idea you'd moved from Kansas to live on a rock in the middle of nowhere," she retorted with a raised eyebrow and a smile tugging at the ends of her mouth. Then she broke into a grin. "It's so good to see you."

"It's good to see you, too," Jeff replied. He moved his head to take in all of her features. "You're looking good, despite the gray hairs...."

Lou's mouth opened in shock and her eyes widened. "Look who's talking, Mr. More-Salt-Than-Pepper-In-His-Hair-_And_-A-Receding-Hairline!"

"Who, me?" Jeff exclaimed in mock surprise, running a hand through his hair again. Then both of them broke down and laughed.

"So, how was your trip? And how is your mother? And what all did the boys tell you about me?" Lou asked, the words tumbling out rapid-fire.

"My trip was profitable, but too long," Jeff replied. Then he sobered a touch. "My mother took sick while she was in the States and she's still not feeling up to par."

Lou's face softened, and she said sympathetically, "I'm sorry that she's not feeling well. You tell her for me to get well soon. That is," she added, "if she'll accept get well greetings from me."

"I'll see to it that she does," Jeff told her. "As for the boys, well, they had just gotten to the juicy part when I read your letter."

"Juicy part? What juicy part? I don't remember there being anything particularly juicy going on," Lou protested.

Suddenly, Jeff realized that their conversation was being watched with great interest by the rest of the household, and that he hadn't cut off communications with John in Thunderbird Five. He turned, and found that Scott had already dealt with the satellite situation and John's casual portrait was back in place.

"By juicy, _Aunt Lucinda_," Scott said as he came to stand beside Jeff, "Dad's talking about how I tried and tried to figure out where I had seen you before and couldn't." He shook a finger at her. "You said that you hadn't met me before."

"Ah, ah, ah, Scott," she replied with a grin, shaking her head and her finger back at him. "I said that if I had met a man as handsome as you, I was sure I'd remember him." Her grin widened and she winked at him. "And I would."

Scott groaned and passed his hand over his face. "Why didn't you tell me who you were? I was going crazy trying to figure it out!"

"Yeah!" Virgil piped up as he joined Scott at the vidphone. Jeff stepped back, his arms folded and a big smile on his face. "He had John and me going nuts, too!"

"Oh, Scott! I'm sorry," Lou said, contritely but with a twinkle in her eyes. "I just couldn't help myself. I just kept waiting and waiting for the penny to drop and it just wouldn't!" She focused her gaze beyond them, her eyes searching. "Where is John, anyway?"

"Uh, he's still out at one of the corporate offices," Jeff said quickly. "He'll be home in a day or so and I'll make sure you get to talk to him then."

"I bet Gordon and Alan are wondering what the hell we're talking about, and where this 'aunt' business comes from," Lou commented.

"Yes, we are!" Alan exclaimed as he came to take Virgil's place.

Gordon joined him, standing on the other side of Jeff. "Cough it up, Dad. How come we have an aunt when you've got no siblings?"

"The key word is 'honorary', boys," Lou told them.

"Yes," Jeff added. "Lucinda here was a good friend of ours when you two were just babies. We met her and her husband, Greg, when we were expecting you, Gordon. Your mother and Lou continued their friendship for years after Lucinda and Greg moved away."

"Really?" Alan asked, his interest piqued. "How did you meet?"

"Lucinda works for Interpol in their Intellectual Properties division. Her specialty is research and surveillance. In the early days of Tracy Industries I was having trouble with industrial piracy. Someone was taking our ideas and selling them to competitors overseas. Since the problem crossed international borders, it fell under Interpol's purview. Lucinda was the agent assigned to our case."

Gordon blinked. "You mean... she really _is _a secret agent?"

Lou laughed. "An agent, yes, but hardly secret. More like a law-enforcement officer, if you will. And, as I told you boys, that's all past now. I'm retired."

"You, retired?" Jeff asked, surprised. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Well, you have," Lou replied. "I am free of the daily grind. My unfortunate flight was my final duty to my employer."

"I can't see you just puttering around the house, Lou. You've been far too active. You'll drive poor Greg to distraction," Jeff commented. "By the way, how is he?"

Lou laughed ruefully. "Just like a man! You didn't happen to notice that, oh, it's been nine years now, I started signing the Christmas cards from just 'Lucinda', did you? Greg and I are divorced and have been for a while now. I'm surprised Lucy didn't tell you!"

"Uh, no, I don't remember her saying anything. Or notice the cards," Jeff admitted, his cheeks reddening. "Or if I did notice, I didn't attach too much importance to it."

"Uh huh," Lou said, smiling impishly, an eyebrow raised as she nodded her head slowly. "As I said, just like a man."

"So, what happened? Why did you two break up?" he asked, sitting back down at his desk and making himself comfortable.

Lou sighed, her demeanor turning weary and serious. "Oh, Jeff, it was such a dismal and sordid thing... the gist of it was that he had an affair and walked out on me. I'd rather not talk any more about it, at least not now. Maybe some other time."

"Okay. Some other time then," Jeff replied, giving her a sympathetic smile. "So, how'd you end up in North Carolina?"

"Well, it's central to myoffice and to a lot of my friends, and besides, I love the mountains. The city isn't too big and the people are friendly. Seemed like the perfect place to live once I was on my own," Lou explained. "Now, how did you end up on that beautiful island of yours?"

"Oh, so now it's a beautiful island?" Jeff teased. He glanced back at the rest of the household, who were still hanging on every word. "Well, I wanted to retire and get away from it all. I had found this... rock... when I was doing my astronaut training. In fact, I was abandoned here for several weeks. It seemed to fill the bill. Can't get much more 'away from it all' unless you went to live in a lunar or Martian colony. And with Tracy Industries as spread out as it is, I still need to be close to the action... as in, on the planet."

"Well, I wish I had been able to see more of it, but I really did want to get home," Lou said regretfully. Then her tone became impish again. "Though it would have been fun to see your face if you came home to find me occupying a guest room!"

"It was enough of a shock to get that letter!" Jeff shot back. "And to find out that one of our... ahem... 'beach finds' had actually gone home without trying to snare one of my sons!" He looked over at Scott. "Though Scott doesn't seem to remember the crush he had on you way back when."

Scott gave his father a piercing look. "Me? Crush? On Aunt Lucinda?"

Virgil had returned to the piano, and now he bounced up and down on the bench. "Oh yeah! That's right! Whenever you and Mother went out together, he would ask for his 'favorite babysitter', Aunt Lucinda!"

"That's not the half of it, Virgil," Lou said, smiling mischievously. "When Gordon was born, and it became clear to him that the stork had nothing to do with babies, he proposed to me!"

Scott frowned. "I did?" He shook his head. "I don't remember doing that."

"Oh, but I do!" Lou continued. "You asked me, and I quote: 'Aunt Lucinda, wanna get married and make some babies?'."

All eyes turned to Scott, whose face went white, then red, and then he buried it in his hands, shaking his head. "Oh, man. Now I remember."

The group in the room laughed, and Virgil slapped Scott on his shoulder, howling at his brother's embarrassment.

"And what did you say to him?" a grinning Jeff inquired.

"Oh, I told him that I was already married to Greg and I couldn't be married to two men at once. He seemed to take it in stride... for an eight-year-old," Lou explained.

Scott's head suddenly shot up, and a scheming look crossed his face. "Well, you're not the only one who has dirt to dish, Aunt Lucinda. My memory is getting better, and I seem to recall the incident with the lentil stew...."

Now it was Lou's turn to look disconcerted. She sat up straighter, and shook a finger at him, though everyone could see she was amused under it all. "Now, Scott Carpenter Tracy, I swore you to secrecy on that!"

"Tit for tat, Lou," he replied, grinning now.

"What's this about lentil stew?" Jeff asked, looking from the vidphone screen to his oldest son and back again.

Scott leaned back and put his hands behind his head. "Well, I remember that one night when Aunt Lucinda came to babysit, Mom had left a big pot of lentil stew on the stove for our dinner. Lou took one look at it, and spooned it out into bowls. She made us each take one bite, dumped the stew down the garbage disposal, and put the bowls in the dishwasher. Then, she called out for pizza!"

"Yeah! I remember that!" Virgil piped up. "She put the empty pizza boxes in her car, made sure the trash was taken out and made us swear not to tell Mother about the pizza! I think I heard her telling Mom how delicious the stew was. And when we were asked if we'd eaten any, we all said 'yes' because, after all, we had!"

"It was like some big secret campaign to eat pizza and not hurt anyone's feelings," Scott added. He looked over at Lou and grinned. "I'm remembering more and more now. You _were_ a fun babysitter. Too bad we didn't see much of... your husband... at the time."

"Yeah. He didn't like to be called 'Uncle' Greg, as I remember," Virgil agreed, nodding his head.

Jeff shook his as he turned his attention fully back to Lou. "The things you learn about your kids as they grow up! I seem to remember the lentil stew; Lucy fretted that you wouldn't like it." He leaned in close as if imparting something confidential. "And truth to tell, I wasn't that fond of it myself. But I never told her that."

Lou laughed. "You are incorrigible, Jeff Tracy. Poor Lucille!" Then she smiled at him. "Lucy'd be proud, you know. You two raised wonderful boys."

Jeff looked down and cleared his throat. "Well, yeah, I'd like to think so."

"She would be," Lou said firmly. "The way they--and Brains and Tin-Tin, of course--took care of me... well, sir, you'd be proud of that yourself . It's a measure of how well you and Lucy raised them that they could do what they did for what seemed like a total stranger. And she'd be proud of the way you've kept the family together since her death."

Jeff said nothing, just looked down.

Lou took this as a cue to wrap up the conversation. "Well, it's getting late here, and though I don't have to actually go to work tomorrow, I do need to replace all of my identification and I expect that will take a good portion of the day. Plus, my four furry tyrants won't let me sleep beyond eight. So, I'll say goodbye... for now." She looked beyond Jeff. "Goodbye everybody! And thank you all again for what you did for me." Turning her focus to Jeff, she said. "Listen, Jeff. Next time you're in the States, look me up. It's been great touching base with you and I'd love the opportunity to catch up."

Jeff returned his gaze to her, and a slight smile brightened his face. "Sure, Lou. I'd like that. I see that you put your address on the letter, too. Next time I'm Stateside, I'll make time to visit. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that, Jeff Tracy." Lou wagged a finger at him. "My porch light is on for you, and no one else."

"It's been good talking to you, Lou. Take care."

"You, too, Jeff. Goodbye for now."

"Goodbye."

The vidphone call ended and Jeff sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful. He sat that way for a long time, then he glanced up to see that almost everyone had left the lounge. Only Virgil sat at the piano, playing something that Jeff didn't immediately recognize.

"Where did everyone go?" Jeff asked.

"Kyrano's gone to prepare dinner. Tin-Tin said she'd check in on Grandma. Scott's helping Gordon with maintenance on Thunderbird Four. Said something about it being his fault that Gords went out to find Lou's plane. Alan's getting Three ready for the flight to Five to pick up John. I think Brains is back in the lab." Virgil answered, still playing softly.

"Thanks," Jeff said distractedly. He looked lost in thought again, then frowned. "Refresh my memory, Virgil. What did Gordon say he found that indicated sabotage?"

Virgil stopped playing. "Well, there were two indicators. One was that the black box was gone. Nobody is going to be able to tell what happened except for whoever took it."

"What was the other one?"

Virgil hesitated, then said solemnly, "The fuel gauge. It was reading full. He said that she should have used some fuel by the time she reached that point, and John commented that once the power was out on the plane, the gauge should have gone back to reading empty anyway."

"Hmm." Jeff took up a pencil and tapped it against his chin. "Who found Lou on the beach?"

"Scott and Gordon."

Jeff got up and stretched. "I think I'll have a word with them. There's something about this whole situation that I don't like." He smiled softly. "Still, it was good to talk to her again. It's been a long time."

He strode from the lounge, and Virgil's eyes followed him. Then the pianist took out a worn piece of sheet music.

_I need to copy this again, _Virgil thought as he began to play the music his mother had composed and entitled, "My Love".


	9. International Rescue responds

_Author's note:_ International Rescue is supposed to be about rescues, so here's one to keep you on your toes. Don't worry, I haven't left the mysterious Lou out of this entirely. Big thanks to my betareader Hobbeth, to CIR member Liktra for her sharp eyes, and to Math Girl, ArtisticRainey, and Amanda Tracy for their encouragement. Now, on to my reviewers:

**Lothliana:** I'm glad you liked the chapter ending. I'm updating again!

**Bluegrass**: Thanks for the compliment on the mystery and the humor.

**Claudette: **Thanks for the compliments on the dialogue. The line that young Scott used on Lou was actually used on me by a young man of similar age when I was young and single (and I've never let him live it down!). I do have a soft spot for Jeff, I'm afraid, and portray him accordingly. Not perfect, by any means, but caring. As for your final guess, only time (and more updates) will tell. I do have a lot of this written, I just have to bridge my way to the explanations.

**Kitkat Tictac:** Well, now you know, it wasn't Lucille. I'm afraid that Lucille Tracy is well and truly dead in this fic. And believe me, I'm far from finished.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

Jeff was halfway down to Thunderbird Two's hangar when the emergency alarm went off. He turned on his heel and hurried back to the lounge. Virgil was already in discussion with John when he entered the room. 

"What do you have for us?" Jeff asked, approaching his desk.

"New Brunswick authorities have called to say that they have three hikers lost out on the International Appalachian Trail, Father," John said, referring to his data pad for the information. "The Search and Rescue units in the area are fairly sure where they went, but they can't accurately pinpoint the hikers' location. Snow is forecast, it's already heading for midnight, and if the hikers are left out there, they may die of exposure."

Jeff turned as Scott, Gordon, and Alan entered the lounge. "Did you hear that?" he asked.

"New Brunswick, right?" Scott responded.

"Right. Off you go, Scott. Winter gear, everybody."

Scott made his way to the portion of the wall behind which was hidden Thunderbird One's silo. A push of a button and he was inside the hangar, moving on a telescoping platform to the cockpit of International Rescue's flagship.

"Alan, Gordon, go with Virgil," Jeff said. He stopped to think for a moment. "I'm not sure what to tell you to take. We don't have a lot of winter weather equipment."

"If it will help any," John piped up, "the hikers have been tracked as far as the head of an old trail that leads along the Restigouche River. It's been closed for decades because of its difficulty, and I'm told that even satellite phones don't work in this area."

"Okay. Thanks, John. Take the Jodrell and the hover bikes. The bikes would give you a good deal of flexibility on parts of the trail, and the Jodrell can bounce communication signals from the area to Thunderbird Five and base. John, I'm counting on you to liase with Scott and find a suitable place to put the Jodrell where it will be most effective. Make sure you've got plenty of lighting equipment, too," Jeff said. "And bring along climbing equipment. You may find you need it. Boys, on your way. Thunderbirds are go!"

Virgil stepped over to his floor-to ceiling painting and stood with his back to it, letting its hidden mechanisms flip him up and send him, head first to begin with, down his favorite personal amusement park ride. Alan and Gordon ran from the lounge, heading for the terminus to Thunderbird Two's passenger elevator, prepared for the quick trip to the cargo carrier's cockpit. Jeff glanced at the screen that showed him if there was any sea or air traffic in a twenty-mile radius of the island. All was clear, and when Scott asked for launch permission, he granted it. Thunderbird One flashed by the lounge windows with a muffled roar, and Jeff sat back down at his desk, waiting for Virgil to ask the same question.

Tin-Tin entered the room, a coffee service in her hands. "Coffee, Mr. Tracy?"

"Yes, Tin-Tin. Thank you."

She poured a cup for him and handed it over. He took a sip of the strong, black brew.

"Base from Thunderbird Two. Requesting launch permission."

"Thunderbird Two, you are cleared for departure. Be careful and good luck."

"F-A-B."

Jeff didn't get up to watch Thunderbird Two launch; the villa's position on the top of the cliff made it difficult to see the airstrip. But he heard the green craft lift off, and closed his eyes, sending up a silent prayer that his boys would successful and return to him unscathed. When he opened his eyes, he turned his attention to Tin-Tin, who had taken a cup of coffee for herself and was sitting on Thunderbird Three's couch.

"How is Mother?" he asked.

"Sound asleep. I have given Brains the name of the antiviral medication she is taking, along with the dosage instructions. That way, if it does not seem to be helping, he can order something else from Wellington."

"Good. Thank you, Tin-Tin, for checking on her. I'm sure you were more discreet and quiet than the hospital staff back in Topeka. I think that half the battle in her recovery is for her to get some solid sleep and rest, which the hospital environment just didn't provide." Jeff sipped his coffee again. "Of course, the problem here is to keep her from getting up and doing too much, too soon."

Tin-Tin smiled. "That will be a challenge. She has always hated being inactive."

"Yes, she has." Jeff's eyes strayed across his desk, and rested on the letter from Lou. He picked it up, and read it again.

_Dearest Jeff,_

_Of all the beaches, on all the islands, in all the South Pacific, I had to wash up on yours._

_Truly, I had no idea that you lived out here. It was pure serendipity that the island I saw in the distance was where you had decided to retire from the rest of the world. What a shock to see your boys, all grown up and still living with their Dad._

_Please apologize to Scott for me._ _I could see in his face that he knew he knew me from somewhere, but I was having too much fun watching him try to figure out just where to actually speak up and say anything. What a letdown it would have been to realize that the woman who he had saved from certain death had once been his babysitter and possibly his first real crush. I bet he'll be really embarrassed when he remembers._

_I was amazed at how much Virgil has grown to resemble Lucille. His hands, his eyes, his hair, all made me think of her. He's got the same technique at the piano, too, though I think his taste in music runs in decidedly different circles. Ask him to tell you about his impromptu concert; he was terribly funny even with his bad Danish accent. _

_Gordon and Alan have grown to be such wonderful, high spirited young men, though I can't say much about Gordon's taste in clothing! What does he see in paisley? Alan's got more fashion sense, but how much of that is him and how much is the influence of that lovely Tin-Tin, I can't tell. Better keep an eye on those two; even I can see that there's something smouldering between them. Give my thanks again to Kyrano and tell Brains... well, maybe not. Tin-Tin told me his real name and I realized that he's better off using his nickname. Still, he could have his name legally changed._

_I really wish I had been able to see John, but I understand that you've got a business to run, and your boys have to help. Please give him my love... that is, if he remembers me. And remember me to your mother, as well. I'm sure she won't be too terribly pleased to know I was there, but she'll be happy that I went home._

_Next time you're back in the States, please give me a call, or even drop me a line. I'm enclosing my number and address for your convenience. I really wish I could have stayed long enough to see you, but duty, in the form of my cats, called, and I had to go. _

_My porch light is on for you. Hope to talk to you soon._

_Lou Myles_

Jeff smiled again, then folded up the letter and put it in his desk drawer. He had just closed it when Scott's picture sprang to life.

"Base from Thunderbird One. I am approaching the Danger Zone."

xxxx

"Man, this place seems fifty miles from nowhere," Scott muttered as he zeroed in on Kedgwick. The flight took all of 35 minutes at his top speed. A light snow, visible through the light cast by his running lights, fluttered down in the night sky. He knew that Virgil, whose top speed was a third of his, was at least another hour and a quarter behind him. The plan was for him to do a low level sweep of the area, using the thermal imager, and once he had pinpointed the location of the hikers, use his loudspeaker to try to get them to move down toward the river. He hoped that he could provide enough light for them to see their way down. The slopes of the river where they had been hiking were covered with trees and sending Thunderbird Two's rescue capsule down would be nigh impossible.

"Scott, I have an update for you," John's voice sounded in the cockpit of the rocket plane. "Search and Rescue in Kedgwick tells me that the hikers got hold of a very old map of the IAT, one from the turn of the century. They followed it and ended up taking a part of the trail that had been changed in 2002 because of its difficulty."

"How much trail would be left after nearly seventy years?" Scott asked.

John snorted. "Not much, I'm sure. There was some kind of footpath left by hunters. Maybe these hikers thought that was the trail. It was removed from the IAT because of the deep gulches along the way."

"Oh, lovely," Scott groused. "These guys might be down in one of those gulches. What the hell possessed them to go out in this kind of weather?"

"One guy, two gals," John corrected. "Or at least that's what the authorities in Glenwood had to say. And the weather's been relatively good the past couple of days. Mild and sunny according to the weather service. This snow is coming in on a cold front." John's words were beginning to be punctuated with static.

"Still, they should have gotten a weather report," Scott grumbled. "I hope Virgil gets here soon with the Jodrell. You're already beginning to break up."

"I have... _crackle_... for the Jod..._ hiss_... when he arrives," said John. Suddenly, John's voice came over clearer but fainter. "Scott, can you hear me now?"

"Yeah, John. Strength four but clear," Scott replied. He began to make his first run along the trail indicated by the programmed coordinates. "I'm going to prep the mobile camera. It might be a help once I've found the hikers."

"Good idea, Scott," Jeff's voice issued from the cockpit's speakers. Scott looked up to see his father's face in the communications screen. The picture was occasionally awash with white static, but for the most part it was clear. "John's been relaying updates and is testing to see if his signal boost will help us stay in contact."

"Yes. If we can get away without using the Jodrell, that would be helpful," Scott said. "It would mean one more pair of hands... wait, I think I saw something... I'm turning around."

Scott flew his rocket plane back over where he thought he'd had a hit. Moving over the spot slowly, he kept an eye on the thermal imager's readouts. "No... uh, maybe... hmm. I'd better use the camera; the thermal hit is just too dicey to tell for sure." He toggled a switch and activated yet another video panel in his ship. "Releasing mobile camera."

Using a joy stick, Scott maneuvered the camera down toward the moving dot that represented the imager's target. With one eye on the camera's output, one eye on its destination, he kept his ears busy listening to Thunderbird One's engines as he kept a hand on her controls. This was possibly the trickiest part of his job, and he was glad that he didn't have to do it too often.

Fat, snowflakes floated down lazily in the light of the camera. Scott started and stared at the screen intently as movement caught his eye. He followed the movement with the camera and the lights, then sat back suddenly as the gleam of animal eyes shone in the lens and a mouth full of black nose and red tongue and sharp teeth opened with a strange, almost roar.

"Damn! It's a bear!" he muttered. "Shouldn't that thing still be hibernating?" He quickly pulled the camera back to Thunderbird One. _More time lost following that critter, _he cursed internally. _Those hikers don't have time for me to be fooling around with the wildlife! _

The equipment back on board, Scott moved forward slowly again, waiting for another hit from the thermal imager. He thumbed a switch. "Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One, what's your ETA?"

"Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Two," Virgil's voice came, soft but clear. "I'm forty minutes out, Scott."

"F-A-B, Vee. Put the pedal to the metal. The snow is picking up and I don't have a hit on those hikers yet."

"F-A-B. I'll see what more I can squeeze out of my girl. Thunderbird Two, out."

"Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird One. You still with me, John?" Scott asked.

"F-A-B, Thunderbird One," John's voice was still faint but without static. "I'm with you now, but I don't know for how much longer. The farther you get down that river, the harder it will be for me to read you. And the more difficult to bounce the signal to base."

"Understood. Hopefully you can keep track of where I am and can relay it to Virgil. Though I have no idea where he's going to put the pod down..."

"I'm onto the police in Kedgwick and in Glenwood," John replied. "Kedgwick seems... _hiss_...closer... _crackle_... put the... _hissssss_..."

"Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird One, do you read me? Come in, Thunderbird Five. Base from Thunderbird One, do you copy?" Scott's hails were answered by the hiss and crackle of static. The communications screen was awash with white snow, not unlike what was coming down outside. "Lovely," Scott said under his breath. "Well, once I've got coordinates for the hikers, I'll gain some altitude and hopefully reconnect with John."

xxxx

"Base from Thunderbird Five," John's handsome, concerned face looked his father in the eye. "I've lost communication with Thunderbird One."

"That was to be expected," Jeff said calmly. He turned to Virgil's portrait, which was also active. "Base to Thunderbird Two, your ETA?"

"ETA to Kedgwick, 23 minutes, base," Virgil reported. "We're running at maximum speed."

"F-A-B," replied Jeff. "Thunderbird Five has coordinates for the pod and the Jodrell, Virgil."

"F-A-B," Virgil said. "I have them, base."

_This is the part I hate, _Jeff thought as he sat down behind his desk. _Waiting... just waiting._

xxxx

Scott's attention was caught by another flash on the thermal imager._ Better not be another bear, _he thought as he turned back to pick up the hit. _Or a deer, or a rabbit, or any other form of wildlife that this area has to offer! _Slowing down to what was, for him, a snail's pace, he swept back along the trail again. The imager's screen flashed with not one, but three dots, all gathered close together.

"Yes!" he shouted. "This has to be them!" He busied himself with launching the camera again, and guiding it down to the coordinates of the three markers. He kept glancing over at the screen, watching as the snow filtered down and the camera seemed to descend for a long time. _Damn it, Tracy! Watch those trees! _At last the bright lights attached to the floating device reflected off three frightened faces, all who were shielding their eyes from the unaccustomed brilliance. "Got 'em!"

He reached over and toggled a switch, then spoke into his microphone. "This is International Rescue." The faces of the three hikers lit up with hope and they nudged each other. "I need to know if any of you are injured. You may speak to the camera and I'll hear you in my Thunderbird."

One of the hikers, a woman with long brown hair made stringy and wet by the snowfall, shouted, "BJ here has broken his leg, and Maggie is in need of some medication. Otherwise, we're mostly scratched up, cold, and wet."

"Acknowledged," Scott replied. "Where can we find this medication?"

"I'm afraid that we lost it when we fell down into this ravine. It's in Maggie's backpack, and that's stuck high up in a tree off in that direction," the speaker yelled, pointing in the direction to the camera's right and back toward Thunderbird One.

"Okay. Thanks for the information. The bulk of our rescue team will be here soon. I have your coordinates. Just stay put and stay close together for warmth. We'll be getting you out soon. I'm going to bring the camera back to me and see if I can find that backpack for retrieval. My colleagues need to know what's going on, and this trail has cut off my communications with them. I'm going to gain some altitude, give them a report, and be back as soon as possible. Do you understand?"

"Yes!" the speaker called. "We understand!"

"I'll be back soon." With that promise, Scott pulled the camera upwards slowly, turning it 180 degrees and making it move along in the general direction of that the hiker had indicated. He caught a flash of bright red against the snow and maneuvered it over. There, caught in the upper brances of a tall spruce tree, was the backpack. Scott made note of the coordinates, and brought the camera back to its berth in Thunderbird One's belly.

"Now, let's gain some air!" he said to himself as he took Thunderbird One straight up into the snowy night sky.

xxxx

"Alan, you'd better be careful," John warned. "Because no matter what injury you do to yourself, you are taking your stint up here, on time, mister!"

Alan laughed at John's stern glare, seen on his telecomm watch screen. "Okay, okay. I get the picture. Sheesh!" He shook his head before donning his flight helmet.

Gordon checked the straps on Alan's harness. "I'm glad I'm not the one going down this way," he said. "Scott says 'thar's bars in them thar woods'!"

"Cute, Gordo, real cute," Alan replied. He was wearing a heavy duty flight suit to keep him warm and repel any branches he might encounter on his way down to the trio who waited for them. It had been decided to send one person down into the gulch, so they could stabilize the injured and direct them to a clearing some forty meters away where the rescue capsule would await them. On the way down, Alan was to retrieve the backpack so that the woman who needed her medicine could take it.

On his arrival at Kedgwick, Virgil had set his baby down in the town's athletic field, then opened up the pod and let Gordon take the Jodrell to the coordinates which John had indicated. It was accessed by an old logging road, and more than once Gordon silently cursed his space-bound brother for not selecting an easier route. Once he had set up the Jodrell for maximum efficiency and locked it down, Virgil picked him up so that he could work the winch for Alan, and come down to assist in the rescue capsule when it was time. Scott, instead of setting up Mobile Control in friendly Kedgwick or settling down and making the Jodrell his command post, opted instead to hover over the Rescue Zone, adding Thunderbird One's belly lights to the illumination provided by Thunderbird Two.

Gordon strapped a medikit to Alan's back, making sure it was secure. Then he took his place by the winch controls. Alan looked over at him, a bright grin shining through the faceplate of the helmet. He gave Gordon a "thumbs up" and stepped out into thin air. Gordon carefully played out the line that held his brother, listening intently for the verbal cues that would make him stop the winch or measure out more cable.

Virgil listened, too: listened for the directions from Alan so he could make minute adjustments in Thunderbird Two's position. In an operation like this, even the slightest variance from his position could have dire consequences for the person in the harness. He kept his hands tight on the steering yoke and pretended his palms didn't sweat.

"Right right one degree." Alan was amazed at how calm his own voice sounded._ I almost sound like John,_ he realized. _And why not? I've raced cars, spacewalked, been winched down into mines, recalibrated the antenna masts at home... I've done all that and not had a moment's second thought. So, why do I have this butterfly in the pit of my stomach?_

The harness swung him around as Virgil made the requested adjustment and he found his booted feet were skimming the tops of the tall conifers. _Boy, am I thankful that there's no real wind tonight. Even this light snow is making visibility difficult._

Scott listened and watched, using the mobile camera to track Alan's descent. He knew where the backpack was. He knew where his brother needed to go. "Virgil, you need to move forward about 1.5 meters," he murmured.

"F-A-B," Virgil replied as he began moving forward ever so slowly. "Alan, Scott tells me I have to move forward. Gordon, put a brake on the cable."

"I'm ready," Alan's steady voice acknowledged.

"F-A-B," came Gordon's reply.

Alan's descent stopped, not with a jerk or any sudden pulling on the harness, it just stopped. He felt himself moving through the air very slowly, and kept himself still. This was neither the time nor the place to set up a swinging motion of any kind. Unfortunately, the laws of physics don't suspend themselves for International Rescue, and Alan felt himself being pulled slightly backwards by Thunderbird Two's forward motion. The craft stopped, and his backwards motion became forward momentum: straight for a tall spruce.

"Alan! That's the tree! Grab hold!" Scott shouted in his ear.

"Gee, thanks for the warning, Scott," Alan muttered under his breath as he swung into the flexible branches near the top of the tree. He screwed his face up for the impact, even though he knew that the polyhexane plate on the flight helmet was more than a match for any stray fronds that might be directed at his eyes. He reached out blindly, and grabbed hold.

"Got it, Scott. Now where... oh, down there." Alan looked down to see the light of the mobile camera several feet below him. "Gords, play out some more cable."

"F-A-B," Gordon's voice sounded in his ear as he felt the slack of the cable heavy on his shoulders and began to climb down and around to where the camera indicated his target rested. "That's enough, Gords!" With one hand on the slender trunk of the tree to anchor him, Alan leaned over, stretching out his hand... and came away with the red backpack tightly clutched in his fist.

"I've got it! Pull me up, Gords!" Alan said triumphantly. The winch began to take up the slack and Alan was pulled free from the tree and back into the sky.

"Weather report shows the snow should be tapering off within the next ten minutes or so," John said, his statement heard in every ear.

"Great," Scott said shaking his head. "Just our luck. The snow ends almost the same time as the rescue."

"Never mind that," Alan called, bringing their attention back to him. "Let's get down there to those hikers and pull them out. That's what we're here for."

"F-A-B," Virgil said grinning as he slowly swung Thunderbird Two around, moving it to the required coordinates.

"Whooooaaaa!" Alan shouted as he swung beneath the green behemoth. "Take it easy up there, will ya, Virge?"

"Oh, sorry, Alan," Virgil said, still grinning. "Just want to get the job done, that's all."

"Right. Sure," Alan muttered._ Just wait until we get home..._

xxxx

In North Carolina, a sleepless Lou sat on her sofa, legs tucked up beneath her warm robe, one hand wrapped around a cup of hot cocoa, the other absently stroking the fur of her fluffy gray cat. The light of her television played across her face as she watched a news report out of Canada.

"Today, International Rescue was called in to find and rescue three missing hikers on a particularly treacherous and abandoned piece of the International Appalachian Trail. Their work has been hampered by low temperatures and a light snow but we understand that they have located the three and are beginning rescue operations..."

The reporter's voice ran on and on, and Lou listened intently to the report. As the news show shifted venues and stories, she muted the TV with the remote, and sighed. She turned to the cat, who was purring deeply at the attention.

"Well, Moofums? What do you think? Do you think International Rescue will pull it off?"

The cat had no answer but to yawn at her, sharp white teeth and curling pink tongue illuminated by the light of the TV. Lou turned her face back to the screen, but she didn't see it. She took another sip of the hot drink and admonished silently, _Be careful, boys. Just be careful._


	10. Grandma eats breakfast

_Author's note:_ Okay, readers. This is as far as I've gotten. I have some later parts written, but I have to bridge my way to them, and that means waiting on my sorely overworked muse. Please be patient with the poor author. Big thanks to my betareader Hobbeth, and to Math Girl, ArtisticRainey, and Amanda Tracy for their encouragement. Now, on to my reviewers:

**Claudette: **I'm a toad, am I? Just for that, I'm updating again. :P Thanks for the compliment on the rescue! The name of the communications array is canon, or at least it's listed as that in the cross-sections books. And I think that the bear would rather have fish if he can get it.

**Kitkat Tictac:** That's right, there's much more to come. As for summaries, I tend to leave mine intact until the story is over. After all, some readers come along late to the story and I don't want to spoil it for them.

**thunderbirdgirl: **Nope, not the end. I just hope I can keep the suspense up to the very end.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

It was a _very_ long night. By the time International Rescue had transported the wet and weary hikers to the nearest hospital and picked up the Jodrell, it was four thirty in the morning, local time. By the time they returned to their base in the South Pacific, Thunderbird One pacing Thunderbird Two at her maximum speed, it was twenty minutes short of midnight. Add an hour or more to refuel the craft and put the Jodrell back in its slot in the pod bay, and another half hour or so to debrief while snacking, and it was two in the morning... again. 

The tired heroes of Kedgwick and their support team stumbled into their bedrooms. Some showered, others eschewed a relaxing bath and instead just fell into their beds. Whether they went to sleep clean or not, not a Tracy man showed his face in the waking world until at least nine a.m.

Jeff appeared first, greeting Kyrano as he sat down with coffee and a newspaper. Tin-Tin usually took the time to print one out on the extra wide paper in the lab as she logged into the Tracy's computer network. Kyrano, his pancake griddle hot, began to cook flapjacks for Jeff, and for his sons as they began to filter in, yawning and stretching, and murmuring their good mornings. Gordon entered jauntily, a towel around his neck and his coppery hair touseled and wet from his swim. Brains and Tin-Tin were already awake and fed, and hard at work, so it was just the Tracys who gathered around the kitchen table, talking about the less important details of the rescue.

"It sure was a surprise to see that bear come out of the woods!" Alan commented. "Good thing he didn't think we were anything tasty."

"I warned you about the bears," Scott reminded him. "Though personally, if I were one, I'd stay in bed until half past May."

"Those med students were sensible people," Gordon said. "Between them, Ben and Maggie had BJ's leg all splinted up and ready to go. All I did was wrap my our inflatable splint around it for some extra support."

"Did you ever find out what 'Ben' stood for?" Virgil asked from behind the section of the newspaper that Jeff had abandoned.

"Nope. Never did. Her full name was just as elusive as 'Lou'," Gordon remarked with a grin.

"Hey, Dad! How did Lucinda become Lou?" Alan asked.

"Simple. Both your mother and Lucinda were known by their friends as 'Lucy'. In order to keep them straight, we decided to call one Lucy and one 'Lou'. Lucinda's sister and parents call her that, so it was natural that she'd end up as 'Lou'," Jeff explained.

Suddenly the banter stopped as a frail figure stepped into the doorway and Alan cried, "Grandma!"

"Hello, Mother!" Jeff said, pleased. He put aside his paper and rose from the table as Eleanor entered the room. He offered his arm but she waved it away, shaking her head.

"Grandma!" Scott exclaimed, smiling. "You look a hundred percent better this morning!"

Jeff pulled out his mother's chair and she sat down in it with a small sigh. She smiled wanly, and put a hand on the face of each grandson as they came to kiss her on the cheek and greet her with delight.

"Well, Scott," she was finally able to say after all the greetings were done, "You'd feel a lot better, too, after a good night's sleep in your own bed without a bunch of know-it-all nurses or smart-alecky doctors coming 'round to poke and prod you every fifteen minutes!"

"What would you like for breakfast, Mrs. Tracy?" Kyrano asked, a welcoming smile on his face.

"Just some plain oatmeal, and a glass of rice milk if you have it, Kyrano," Eleanor replied. "My throat's still a bit sore, and my tummy's not what it should be. Some comfort food will help me get over this bug."

"Of course, Mrs. Tracy," Kyrano said as he turned to prepared Eleanor's breakfast.

"Rest is also what will help you recover," Jeff reminded her. "Rest and taking that anti-viral medicine... which I see you haven't brought here with you. I'll go get it." He got up from the table and left the kitchen.

"Lands' sakes! In my day, you didn't have any fancy medicines to cure the flu," Eleanor grumbled. "You just rode it out, or got a shot for it at the beginning of the season."

"Yes, Grandma," Alan said, swallowing a mouthful of pancake. "We know. But a lot of people your age ended up dying from it anyway."

"And what does my age have to do with anything, Alan Shepherd Tracy?" Eleanor challenged. "Why, I'm as fit and spry as I was twenty years ago!"

"Sure you are, Grandma. Sure you are," Alan hastily reassured her.

"Th-The medicine will, uh, ensure that you d-don't spread it around to the rest of the, uh, family," Brains said as he walked into the kitchen, looking for his misplaced stylus.

She glared at the scientist for a moment, then conceded, "Well, if it does that, I reckon it's worth it. Don't want any of you boys to come down with this, no sirree."

Kyrano placed the glass of rice milk before Eleanor, then returned to the stove for the oatmeal.

"Thank you, Kyrano," she said with a small smile. She lifted the glass and took a few careful swallows.

"What are your plans for the day, Grandma?" Virgil asked.

Eleanor set down her milk. "Well, I..." she began.

"She has no plans," Jeff said firmly, as he returned with the bottle of pills. He put them down by her meal, then returned to his seat. "No plans except to rest and recover from this flu."

She turned her glare on him, but he sat there, unfazed, a silvered eyebrow raised in challenge. The staring contest lasted for a whole minute and a half (Gordon timed it), until at last, Eleanor looked down at her bowl of oatmeal.

"All right, Jefferson Grant, you win. I'll rest. But I don't want to do all of my resting indoors and in bed! I had enough of that back in Kansas!"

"Of course not, Mother," Jeff agreed, beaming genially now. "Some sun and sea air are just the ticket. Once you're done with breakfast, I'll be happy to escort you to the balcony or even down by the pool, if you like."

"Hmm. Escort me? More like take me some place where you can keep an eye on the old lady," Eleanor groused, spooning some sugar onto her warm cereal.

"Absolutely," Jeff retorted. "I know you, Mother. If someone didn't keep an eye on you, you'd be trying to do laundry, or you'd be in the kitchen baking pies." He speared a finger at her. "Now, understand this. The kitchen if off-limits to you except for eating. So are the laundry room, the pantries, the cleaning supply closet, and anywhere else in this place that has anything to do with housekeeping." He looked around at his sons. "We can all pitch in and keep things clean around here."

"Hmpf. All right. I'm too wrung out to argue with you," Eleanor admitted. "Let me finish my breakfast and then, Jeff, you can 'escort' me outside and keep me entertained."

"With pleasure, Mother."

One by one, the Tracy sons left the kitchen, bound for their own tasks. Virgil went with Brains to discuss an idea for a cold weather vehicle. Gordon headed to the beach for a run, while Scott and Alan went down to finish loading Thunderbird Three for its monthly trip to Thunderbird Five.

"Looks like I'm not bringing any of Grandma's pies with me this time," Alan groused. Scott said nothing, just raised his eyes to the top of the silo and shook his head.

When Eleanor had eaten as much as she could stomach, Jeff pulled back her chair and offered his arm again.

"Where would you like to go, Mother?"

Eleanor thought for a moment. "Down by the pool, I think. There's a lot of lovely greenery there, and the flowers are still blooming."

"Then the pool it is."

He stepped carefully down the stairs at the end of the patio outside the dining room, helping her descend safely as there was no rail. They walked down the flagstone path to the kidney shaped pool with its high and low diving boards and the many places, both sunny and shady, where one could sit. Jeff indicated a pair of chaise lounges that sat in the dappled shade of a copse of palms and Eleanor nodded. They walked over there slowly, and Jeff stood by as Eleanor lowered herself into one with a relieved sigh. He pulled the second chaise closer to her and sat down by her side.

"This is just what I needed," she said, taking a deep breath that elicited a cough or two. "Well, maybe not so much of that fresh salt air all at once." She exchanged glances with Jeff and he was encouraged to see some color in her face and an indication that her usual spunk was beginning to return.

"I think I needed it, too," Jeff commented, stretching out his long legs. "There's only so much of New York a person can take." They sat quietly for a while, just soaking up the sunshine and the warmth of the autumn day. Then Jeff turned to his mother, and said, "There was a rescue after we got home."

"I thought I heard the emergency signal go off," she replied. "Tell me about it."

So Jeff told her about the rescue, where it was, what time of day at the Danger Zone, what the weather was like, how they handled things, all the while making it sound like a thrilling narrative, just as if he were telling an exciting story to one of the boys. Eleanor interjected questions; Jeff answered, and an hour passed without either of them being aware of it.

"Scott's right," she said at last. "That bear should have been hibernatin'. Spring comes later to the mountains, y'know."

"Yes, I know."

They settled back into the quiet again, and Jeff was about to ask if she wanted to go back in, when suddenly, she said, "I heard you talking about Lucinda Myles as I came into the kitchen."

Jeff was startled, but nodded. "Yes. I was."

"What brought that on?" Eleanor's voice was flat, but there was an undercurrent of disapproval to her tone. She looked straight ahead and wouldn't meet Jeff's eyes.

"Alan asked a question about her and Lucille, that's all," Jeff replied, hoping that his mother would leave it at that.

She didn't. "What does _he_ know about Lucinda and Lucy? What brought this up?"

Jeff sighed heavily. He knew that the subject would come up eventually, but he had hoped to have the support of his sons when he told her about the uninvited guest that had washed up on the beach.

"While we were gone, Scott and Gordon found a woman washed up on our beach. She was in a bad way; sunstroke, severe sunburn, dehydration. Turned out to be Lucinda. She was here for a couple of days, driving Scott crazy because he thought he remembered her from somewhere. When Brains said she was well enough to go home, she went. She sent a letter back with Tin-Tin, a thank you note of sorts. I called her, and we explained to the boys just what her relationship to the family was."

"Why didn't she tell Scott who she was?"

Jeff huffed, exasperated. "You know what a tease she can be. She was being mischievous, that's all. When we talked on the phone, she embarrassed him but good with a tale I hadn't heard before. And, she sent you her get well wishes, too."

Eleanor sat silent, her lips pressed in a thin line. "I'm surprised she even thought of me."

"Well, she did. She asked how you were, and when I told her you were sick, she expressed her sympathy and told me to tender her wishes for a speedy recovery."

There was silence between them for another few minutes, and Jeff began to think that their discussion of Lucinda was over.

"Did you tell the boys about the affair?"

Jeff took in a deep, noisy breath, then exploded from his chair. "Mother. I told you then. I've told you since. And I'm telling you again: Lucinda Myles and I never had an affair. I_ never _cheated on Lucy with _any _woman. Ever." He paced in front of her chair, fuming. "For God's sake, Mom, even _Lucille_ told you that we didn't have an affair! She trusted me. She trusted Lucinda. I don't know what you've got against the woman, but you're wrong about her. And you always have been."

"Wives can be deceived," Eleanor said, her voice shaking. "I never trusted that woman around you. I never trusted her around the boys. And I never understood what Lucille saw in her that made her take such an interest in her."

Jeff was about to let loose with a cutting remark, but realized the futility of it. He dropped his hand and shook his head, gazing at her with a mixture of frustration and pity. "You never will understand, Mom. Never. You're just too damn stubborn to give Lucinda a chance." He looked at his watch and at the sun, and said, "I think you'd better go back in now, Mother."

"I think so, too," Eleanor agreed. Stiffly, she got to her feet, pushing away Jeff's attempts to help, and slowly she shuffled back to the steps. They met Gordon coming up from the beach after his run.

"Hi, Dad! Hi, Grandma!"

Jeff stepped back and said, "Gordon, could you take your grandmother to her room to rest? I think she's had enough sun and salt air for a bit."

Gordon's eyes flicked from parent to grandparent, then he replied, "Sure, Dad. No problem. C'mon, Grandma. Let me give you a hand on these stairs."

Jeff watched until Gordon and Eleanor had finished climbing the flight and were out of view. Then he drew in a deep breath through his nose and sighed, a short frustrated breath. Putting his hands in the pockets of his slacks, he began to wander down to the beach, hoping to walk off his frustration and clear his head from the confrontation with his mother.


	11. Jeff takes another trip

_Author's note:_ Big thanks to my betareader Hobbeth for betareading and being a sounding board, and to Math Girl, ArtisticRainey, and Amanda Tracy for their encouragement and listening ears. Now, on to my reviewers:

**ColorRadO: **Yes, you'll have to keep reading, I'm afraid. It will be explained at some point.

**Meercat: **Actually, that kind of came out of left field for me, too, at least as far as timing is concerned. Grandma is stubborn, and she does have a bee in her bonnet about Lou. Thank you for the comments about being in character; it tells me I'm going in the right direction. Also for the compliments on Gordon's reaction. Your encouraging thoughts to my muses are working; this chapter came easier than I originally thought it would.

**Girl-Detective: **Have you got your jaw picked up? Speech returned? Good! Thanks for the compliments.

**Claudette: **Yeah, I like a good twist now and then. As to the veracity of Grandma's suspicions, stay tuned. When is the next attempt? Did I say anything about a next attempt? ;) You just keep reading...

_Disclaimer: _I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

"Welcome home, John!" Jeff said as Thunderbird Three's sofa locked into its spot in the lounge decor. The monthly transfer of personnel had taken place on time, much to Alan's chagrin. Jeff got up from behind his desk to shake John's hand and clap him on the shoulder. "It's good to see you in the flesh, son!" 

"Thanks, Father!" John said with a grin. "It's good to be home."

"Did everything go well? Any glitches I should know about?" Jeff asked, leaning on his desk. It was standard operating procedure for a short, informal debriefing on the return from the transfer run.

John looked at Scott, and shook his head. "No, no glitches. We made good time."

Scott grinned. "I think we broke a speed record for unloading Three, though. Johnny here was very, very eager to get home."

John rolled his eyes. "I'm always eager to get home. Especially when the cupboard starts looking as bare as it did this time. I'm glad you filled the entire list, Dad. Alan shouldn't run short of anything."

"Except Grandma's pies," Scott remarked. "He was grousing about that, yesterday."

"Your grandmother is not up to baking anything right yet. Except maybe herself... in the sun," Jeff said, picking up a data pad.

"Where is Grandma now?" John asked, picking up his bags. "I want to see her as soon as possible."

"Tin-Tin took her down to the pool," Jeff said as he moved back to his desk. "She likes it because it's still green down there. Nothing was green in Kansas when we left."

"Ah!" John exclaimed. "I'll go and see her as soon as I unpack."

"You'll have to do your own laundry, John," Jeff warned, looking up from his virtual paperwork. "We're all pitching in to help keep things clean around here."

"F-A-B. Heard and understood," John said, grinning. He gave his father an informal salute and left the room, chatting with Scott on the way out.

Jeff sighed as he returned to his data pad. Not another word had been said between mother and son about the altercation the day before, though the atmosphere between them was still strained. Eleanor had stayed in her room on her return to it, and had taken her lunch and dinner there. Her only excursion was a trip to the infirmary, so that Brains could listen to her lungs and give her a quick check over with the medical scanners. That morning, she had appeared in the kitchen for breakfast, leaning on Alan's arm, and they had spent the time before his flight to Thunderbird Five together. Finally, after lunch, which she had eaten with the family, Eleanor had asked Tin-Tin to bring her down to the pool for some time in the sun.

Jeff was grateful for the respite; he had spent a lot of time sitting by her bedside in Kansas, watching the flu slowly lessen its grip on her lungs and her intestines. He had been given a good scare, and a glimpse of her relative fragility. _She won't be around forever, _Jeff thought sadly. _I hate to think of what life will be like when she's gone. Perhaps I should discuss the subject with her, see what kinds of plans she has, and if she hasn't planned for it... well, I'll cross that bridge should I come to it._

He returned to his memos, reading the ones that seemed to be most important and replying to them. He was so engrossed that when he heard a soft, "Ahem", he was startled and jumped a bit.

"Brains! How long have you been standing there?"

"J-Just a few minutes, Mr. T-Tracy," Brains replied, pushing his glasses back up his nose. Jeff motioned for him to sit, and the engineer did.

"What's on your mind, Brains?" Jeff asked, immediately thinking, _Maybe I shouldn't have put it quite like that. He's **always** got something on his mind._

"Uh, I just wanted t-to remind you that I'm, uh, leaving Sunday for the conference in A-Atlanta," Brains said. "And that I may n-need a, uh, co-pilot."

"Right. A co-pilot. Who can best...? Wait a minute. I've been thinking that Lou should know about what you and Gordon found out about her plane. But it's not something that I'd want to discuss with her over the phone. So, why don't I be your co-pilot? Then I can pay Lou a visit and tell her in person."

Brains sat up straighter, startled by the offer from his boss. "Th-That would be, uh, fine, Mr. Tracy."

Jeff smiled. "Good. Then it's settled. I'll let Scott know that he's in charge while I'm gone." Then a thought occurred to him. "Uh, Brains? Don't tell anyone where I'm going, please. I'll let Scott know before we go, but I don't want it to get back to my mother. She, uh, doesn't like Lucinda."

"S-Sure, Mr. Tracy. No p-problem." Brains rose to go, then hesitated for a moment. "S-Should I do the, uh, pre-flight checks, or will you?"

"I'll do them, Brains. You just get yourself ready for that conference. I hear you have a lot of talking to do," Jeff answered.

"Yes, I, uh, have several p-panel forums and a lecture," Brains said with a grimace. Jeff smiled a bit; he remembered how extremely nervous Brains had been at the beginning of his lecture in Paris, where the two had first met. But he also knew that once the engineer warmed to his subject, the stutter disappeared and he was an exceptionally concise and compelling speaker.

"Very good. I'm sure you'll wow them," Jeff encouraged. "Our departure will be at 0800 hours on Sunday morning."

"O-Okay, Mr. Tracy. Thank you." And with that, Brains left through the door to the balcony.

Jeff sat back, his memos momentarily forgotten as he began to put the details together. With an ease that came from long practice, he did the time zone math in his head. _Let's see. Today is Friday, and we leave early Sunday morning by eight. At mach 1.5, it's a little more than seven hours straight to Atlanta. That would put us there at around three p.m. our time. Now, with Atlanta roughly seven hours or so and a day behind us, we'd be there at around ten p.m., Saturday. We can stay overnight in Atlanta, Brains can check in the next day, and I can either fly or drive out to Asheville on Sunday. Get there in time to take Lou out for lunch. _

By this time, he was sending out an email to his secretary in New York, asking her to make the arrangements for a hotel suite in Atlanta and transportation to and from it, and a rental car and accommodations for himself in North Carolina. _It's nine p.m. out there now. My secretary will get this in the morning. She'll be scrambling, but I know she can get it done. I'll file the flight plans myself. Now the question is: do I tell Lou? Or do I surprise her? I suppose I can decide that later. What I really need now is a reason to go to the States that my mother won't see through!_

Now that he'd started the ball rolling on the arrangements, Jeff found himself waiting anxiously for Sunday to roll around. The remainder of Friday and all of Saturday seemed to crawl by. Jeff cleared his desk of paperwork. He did his wash and packed his suitcases. He did the preflight checks on Tracy One... twice. He offered to help John with the post flight maintenance on Thunderbird Three, which garnered him a strange look from his oldest son, who was also helping John. He even vacuumed the pool. The email from his secretary just made him even more antsy, a condition that didn't escape the rest of the family.

Finally, late Saturday evening, Scott cornered him in the lounge. "Okay, Dad. What's going on?" he asked bluntly. "You've been, and I quote Grandma, 'jumpier than a cat in a room full of rockin' chairs'. Something's up, and I want to know what it is."

Jeff took a deep breath, and let it out. "I didn't realize I was being so obvious, especially to your grandmother. I don't want her to know what I'm doing."

Scott frowned at his father. "What are you doing that you don't want Grandma to know about?"

"Well," Jeff began, running a hand back through his hair and leaving it at the nape of his neck. "I'm going to visit Lou."

Scott's frown dissolved into a look of confusion. He paused, then asked, "And exactly _what _is so bad about that?"

"Your grandmother doesn't like Lou. Never has. She'd go into orbit if she knew I was going to the States for that purpose." Jeff lowered his hand, then added. "Getting all riled up isn't good for her right now."

"Oh," Scott answered, still looking confused. "I thought you were flying shotgun with Brains?"

"I am. He needs a co-pilot and I figured that I could do that and then take a side trip to see Lou while he was at the conference. I think she should know about her plane, and that's not something you just mention casually over the phone. Or, at least, I don't believe it's right to call and suddenly drop it in her lap. A personal visit is more appropriate to deliver news like that, don't you agree?"

Scott shrugged. "Yeah, I can see your point. So, what do you want me to tell Grandma? You know she's going to ask."

"The only thing I can come up with is that I'm paying a visit to the offices in the southeast with an eye to expanding the operations down there. I will make an appearance in the Atlanta office sometime next week, and perhaps go down to Florida and poke around there. What do you think?"

"That should work. She wouldn't question it, seeing as how you're combining two activities, Brains's conference with the visit to the south. You know how big she is on saving time and money. Does she know where Lou is living these days?"

Jeff straightened up in surprise. "No, I don't believe she does. Last she knew, and I knew for that matter, Lou was living in small town Wisconsin." He shook his head. "That Greg got promotions to some out-of-the-way places."

"Okay, then," Scott said. "You've gone to visit our offices in the southeastern U.S. with an eye to expansion. How do I get in touch with you?"

"Satellite phone. Using the wrist communicator would raise too many questions," Jeff said. He stepped over to Scott and put a hand on his son's shoulder. "I appreciate you covering for me, Scott, both to your grandmother and for IR. I know it's not your favorite thing to do."

"I guess it comes with being the oldest. Though next time, could you ask John or Virgil to take the desk during rescues? I hate the waiting..."

"I know, Scott, I know. I'll keep that in mind for my next trip," Jeff promised. He looked at his watch. "I guess it's time to hit the hay. Don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight, but I've got to try. You've got night watch, don't you, son?"

"Yeah, I do, Dad."

"Then I'll say goodnight, Scott. I'll say my good byes in the morning." Jeff smiled at his eldest, then left the room, while Scott sighed and went around his father's desk to sit in his father's chair. He pulled out his crossword puzzle, then put it down and reached over to the switches that powered the communication system. The flip of a switch and Alan's picture went from painting to live vid.

"International Rescue base to Thunderbird Five. Do you read, Thunderbird Five?"

A long moment, then Alan appeared, his hair mussed and in his pajamas and robe. He rubbed his eyes. "Thunderbird Five here, base. Reading you strength five. What's up, Scott?"

"Nothing, Alan. Didn't realize you were asleep already or I wouldn't have bothered you," Scott responded contritely. "Go back to bed. I can occupy myself down here just fine."

"Night watch?" Alan asked, sitting down in the space monitor's chair.

"Yeah. Not my favorite activity, but hey, someone's got to do it," Scott admitted. His eyes narrowed as a thought struck him. "Hey, Al. Did the salvage people ever raise Lou's plane?"

"I don't know for sure, Scott," Alan said. "But John did leave a note that the salvage buoy had been deactivated."

"Hmm. Sounds like they must have," Scott remarked. "Thanks, Alan." He smiled as his brother stifled a yawn. "Go back to bed, kiddo. Sorry I woke you."

"I'm going, I'm going," Alan grumbled, yawning again. "And don't call me kiddo!"

Scott laughed. "Goodnight, Alan. Base, out."

xxxx

Jeff's second Sunday morning found him at the Asheville jetport, picking up his rental car. The flight from Tracy Island had gone smoothly, and Brains had been the best flying companion that Jeff could have had. He talked about some of the projects he had in the development stages, and Jeff was hard pressed to keep up with his chief engineer's ideas. The upshot was that Jeff forgot about his internal butterflies for a time, and immersed himself in making some concrete plans for more rescue equipment, including a hovercraft for snow rescues and a small, two-man orbital shuttle to be attached to Thunderbird Five for rescues within Earth's orbit... or in case of an emergency on the space station. They had stayed overnight in a posh suite at Atlanta's most exclusive hotel. In the morning, Jeff made it a point to call Lou at her home, but was disappointed to get only her answering machine. Then Brains dropped Jeff off at the airport again and went on to register for his conference, and Jeff took to the skies for the brief flight to southwestern North Carolina.

The black sports coupe was equipped with the best global positioning computer that money could buy and Jeff entered Lou's address into the memory. The screen popped up with a map showing clear directions to the house, and he left the airport, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he tuned in the satellite radio.

He was surprised to leave the Asheville city limits and enter the mountainous area surrounding the town. A river appeared, a sign designating it the French Broad River, and he followed a road that ran along its edge. At one point, he noticed an exit for the Blue Ridge Parkway, and made note of it for a possible future visit. At last he came upon a gravel drive with a tall stone, painted white, which bore the name River Ridge. He turned in there and followed the drive up a steep hill. Along the way he passed a house, then another, then a small bed and breakfast style inn. Just past the inn, on the opposite side of the well kept track, was the house he was searching for.

It was a small cottage, painted yellow, and he could see it through the trees before he found the drive. He pulled in, and parked the car near the flagstone path leading up to the front door. He just sat for a moment looking over the home, then he got out of the car and sauntered down the path to the wide wooden porch. Taking a deep breath, he rang the doorbell, and waited.

Nobody came to the door. He rang the bell again, putting his hands in his pockets, shifting from one foot to the other as he stood there. He seemed to hear some sort of commotion inside, and to his left, two slats of the vertical blinds covering the wide front window parted and a scrawny tortoiseshell cat climbed up on the windowsill to peer out at him. Jeff smiled briefly, then turned his attention to the door again. He knocked this time, using the brass door knocker that was inscribed with the name "Myles". Three loud taps seemed to echo in the quietness of the country setting, and he looked around, suddenly aware of how alone he really was.

When he was certain there was no response, and there was going to be no response, he stalked back to his car. _I knew I should have called ahead sooner than this morning, _he groused._ I wonder if she's gone for the day, or if she's just stepped out for a few hours, or what? She can't have taken a trip; the boys mentioned something about her using a cat sitter when she showed up on the island. Well, I'll wait for fifteen minutes or so and if she doesn't show, I'll head back to town and check in to my hotel suite, then call her from there._

He got into the car and sat with his head resting against the back of the plush leather seat. He put on the satellite radio again, surprised to find that it worked so well in this mountainous area. _Not a dead spot like that place in New Brunswick, _he realized._ Lou chose well when she moved to this place._

The car was warm, and the music he chose was soothing, and he must have dozed off at one point, because the next thing he knew he was startled awake by a sharp tapping at the driver's side window. He shook his head to clear it and glanced to his left... only to find himself looking at the matte black barrel of a semi-automatic pistol.


	12. Coffee at Lou's

_Author's note:_ Big thanks to my betareader Hobbeth for betareading and being a sounding board, and to Math Girl, ArtisticRainey, and Amanda Tracy for their encouragement and listening ears. Now, on to my reviewers:

**Girl-Detective: **Good things come to those who wait. Here's more.

**Math Girl: **Yep, Jeff's in trouble all right. What kind of trouble, you're about to see.

**darkhelmetj: **Welcome! I'm glad you are enjoying it! Safe to guess? With this fic, it is never safe to guess.

**Claudette: **Now you can see if your bet pays off! ;)

**Kitkat Tictax: **Glad you're enjoying the story!

**FrankieC:** You know me! I just looooove a good twist.

_Disclaimer: _I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any and all original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

Jeff stiffened in his seat. He couldn't make out who was holding the gun, not without turning his head all the way around. And he thought it was the better part of valor to stay perfectly still, giving the armed stranger no reason to shoot. 

A voice came from outside, muffled by the fine insulation of the car and so. unrecognizeable. But the words were simple enough to distinguish.

"Get out of the car. Slowly."

He reached to open the door with his left hand when he heard another command.

"Keep both hands where I can see them."

Turning his upper body, he brought his right hand into view, then opened the door slowly with it, holding his left hand palm forward in a gesture of surrender. He still couldn't see who was holding the pistol, all he had was an image of something red plastered against the small window at the rear of the driver's side. Whoever had the gun had flattened themselves against the car.

One foot left the confines of the driver's area, and as the door swung open more, the other. He ducked his head to stand up as the door opened fully, then stood and looked straight at... the astonished face of Lou Myles.

"Dammit, Jefferson Tracy! What the hell are you doing here?" she cried as she lowered her weapon. She peeled herself away from the car's side, standing straight and, opening her red leather coat, holstered her gun.

Jeff swallowed and, in a voice more like that of his tenor son, Gordon, said, "Paying you a visit?"

Lou shook her head with a "Tch!" and then she sighed. "Why the hell didn't you call?"

Jeff took a breath and let it out slowly, his nerves calming with the exhalation. "I did," he explained, sounding a little more like himself. "This morning. From Atlanta. Got your answering machine."

Lou shook her head again, and smiled slightly. "I've been out all morning," she said. "Haven't been home to hear the messages."

"So I gathered. Tell me," Jeff asked as he ducked back into the car for the keys and came out again. "Do you always greet your friends with such," he gestured in the direction of her shoulder, "enthusiasm?"

"No, not my friends," she said, moving closer to him. "Not when I know they're coming. But when I see an unfamiliar black sports car in my driveway, I'll drive up past the house, get my gun and holster from my truck, come around through the woods, and see who's sitting in that car!" She snorted a breathy chuckle. "I'm sorry if I scared you."

"Scared? Who? Me?" Jeff retorted. "I only thought I was going to need clean pair of pants, that's all!" He broke into a grin and stepped forward to embrace her. "Oh, dammit, Lou. It's so good to see you!"

"It's good to see you, too, Jeff," she said as she returned the squeeze. They separated and her eyes swept up and down his form. "You're looking even better than you did on the vidphone."

"I can say the same for you," he replied, taking stock of her as well. Then he turned his attention to her yard, and her home. "Nice place you've got here. Quiet as all get out."

"It's not a fancy house on a beautiful tropical island, but it suits me," she said. "Quiet, off the beaten track, with neighbors that are friendly and look out for one another despite the distances between houses. The only drawback is hunting season." She took a look around and her eyes lighted on his car. "Why don't you put your hot rod in the garage, and I'll pull my truck into the drive?"

"Well, I was hoping to take you out to lunch...," Jeff began.

Lou groaned. "Oh, I couldn't possibly eat lunch now, Jeff. I just got back from Sunday brunch with a friend. If you're willing to wait until I digest a bit, we could go mid-afternoon. The restaurants won't be as busy with the after church crowds then."

Jeff nodded. "That sounds like a plan. Listen. Why don't I go downtown and get checked into my hotel, then I'll come back around three and we can have lunch then?"

"Hotel?" Lou asked, looking at him askance and shaking her head. "You don't need a hotel. You can stay here. I _do_ have a guest room. It's not as luxurious as I'm sure you're used to, but if you stay here, we'd have more time to talk. What do you think?"

"What would the neighbors say, you entertaining gentlemen at all hours?" Jeff quipped.

"Neighbors? Do you _see_ any neighbors?" Lou asked, spreading out her arms to indicate their surroundings. "My neighbors know I have lots of friends, male and female, that come visit me. The person I'd be most concerned about finding you here would be your mother!"

"My mother isn't here, and what she doesn't know won't hurt her... or me for that matter," Jeff said with a grin.

"So, will you stay?" Lou asked again.

"If I'm not putting you out, sure, I'll stay," Jeff replied. He gave her a sweeping bow. "I am honored to be a guest in your humble abode, Madame."

She lightly smacked his upper arm. "You rogue, you! Go get your bags, while I open up the house. Then pull your car down into the garage, and I'll get my truck." She stepped up to the front door and pressed a button on a small square keypad. Jeff could hear the loud snick of the front door's lock as he stepped back to the car and did something similar to unlock the trunk. He pulled out his bags, and followed her into the house.

His first impression was of being surrounded by cats. A big sleek black one was delicately sniffing his trouser leg on the left, while a fluffy gray and peach one had slipped between his feet and was doing the same to the right one. The scrawny tortie he had seen earlier took one look at him and ran away, stopping a few yards down the hallway to stare back at him with huge yellow eyes. A white cat sat in the wide doorway to his left, ignoring him, unconcernedly preening herself with a licked paw swished over an alert ear.

"Jeff, I'd like to introduce you to Midnight and Moofums, who are finding your trousers so fascinating, Snowball, who could care less, and where...? Oh, there she is. That's Spot, who's not fond of strangers," Lou said, indicating each cat. She opened a door to his right. "Put your things in here, Jeff. One warning; make sure you keep the door closed or the cats will get in and take over the room. I'll clear them out while you settle in." And off she went, calling the cats away and after her with the word, "Treat!"

Jeff put his shoulder bag down on the queen-sized sleigh bed, and hung his garment bag up in the small closet. He looked around the room; it was furnished in what Jeff recognized was an updated version of Louis-Philippe, named after France's last ruling king. The furniture was elegantly simple, done in a light finish. The linens were solids in a variety of dark, saturated hues. He smiled. He could see that anyone would be comfortable in the guest room. He tried to think what kind of furniture she and Greg had decorated their apartment with and had a sudden memory of lots of chrome and mirrors.

Lou poked her head around the corner of the open door and knocked on it. Jeff turned around.

"I'm off to get my truck. The furballs are out on the back porch and I've latched the cat door for the moment. Could you move your car?"

"Oh, sure." Jeff patted his pockets and found the keys. Through the open doorway he could see her keying in a sequence of digits into what he surmised was her alarm system.

"There. The garage door is open and ready for you."

He joined her at the front door, remembering to close the guest room door behind him and they left together, Jeff heading for his rental car, and Lou walking up toward the gravel road. It didn't take long for him to put the car away and lock it, and as he left the garage, his eyes widened at the sight of the truck that was coming his way. It was a double cab version, a huge vehicle, painted in a beigeish tone, with a cap over the pickup bed. Lou brought it to a halt just outside the garage doorway, and rolled down the driver's side window, sticking her head out.

"Is that your truck?" Jeff asked, coming up beside the behemoth. "I was picturing something a tad... smaller."

"Yep, it's mine," Lou said with a grin. "I like the intimidation factor." She pulled her head back in and reached up to push a button. The garage door closed slowly, accompanied by a loud beeping sound. The truck's window went back up, and Lou climbed out of the cab, slamming the door to and locking it by remote control.

"How can you afford the fuel for that?" Jeff asked. "You always impressed me as a conservationist-type."

She waved her hand in dismissal. "That was more Greg than me. Even so, this is a very fuel-efficient model, an electric-gas hybrid." She made a face. "I guess something about Greg rubbed off on me." Looking around, she said, "Let's get inside. The day is clouding up."

They went back in, and Lou put a code of some kind into her alarm keypad again. "There," she said. "The garage is all locked up and safe."

Jeff took a good look at the alarm system. It was unlike any he'd seen. There was a palm print scanner on one side as well as the keypad. She saw him looking at it and smiled. "An inventor friend created it. A miniaturized version of some of the larger, more elaborate systems used in high security spots. It's wireless, battery operated, and if you disable one section of it without a palm print or code, the other parts stay active and after three minutes, put out an alarm to the police. I'm beta testing it for her."

"Hmm. Interesting. Can I have your friend's name and address? If it works, I might be interested in buying the rights," Jeff said thoughtfully.

"Sure. Remind me before you leave," Lou said amiably. "Want some coffee?"

"Sounds good," he said.

She guided him through the wide, arched opening to the living room. "Wait here while I put some on. You'll have to excuse the clutter; it's the price you have to pay for showing up unexpectedly." Then she disappeared again.

Jeff sat on the couch, looking around at her decor choices. The furniture was done in dark brown leather, with Mission style tables to set it off. The computer nook was done in that style as well, with open book cases behind an ergonomic desk. _Now I know what I was seeing behind her during that call. _Just then he noticed the collage of photo frames on that took up almost all of the opposite wall at eye level, and he moved over to look at it. There were a lot of pictures of Lou with a variety of people, including a couple of her with him and Lucille, and at least one of her with the boys as children. Reaching up, he ghosted his fingers over the picture of Lucille and sighed.

"That's a good shot of the two of you." He turned at the sound of Lou's voice as she came back into the room. "Coffee's brewing," she said, smiling.

There was an awkward silence between them. He turned again to study the pictures. They seemed to span a lot of years, from the days when he and Lucille had met her up until near the present time, showing her as she aged from twenty-something to the mature lady who stood in the room with him.

"Who are they?" he asked, sweeping a hand to indicate the entire wall.

"Friends," she said simply. "I make them wherever I go."

He turned his head to her. "No pictures of Greg?"

She shook her head, her face taking on an expression of melancholy. "No. None of him." She turned her head toward the doorway. "The coffee's ready."

He followed her down the hall, past a closet and a bathroom and into the bright kitchen with its pale yellow walls and knotty pine cabinets. She took down two coffee mugs, and poured out for them both.

"You used to take yours black," she said, handing him the mug.

"I still do. Do you still use those flavored creamers? I remember you made me try a caramel one once," Jeff said, making a face.

She chuckled, "I remember you took one sip and made the same face you made just now. Then you asked me for some 'real' coffee."

"Yeah. You got Lucille hooked on those things," he said, watching as she walked to the cryofridge and pulled out a bottle of creamer. "What's the flavor today?"

"Just French vanilla," she said, pouring a generous amount into her cup.

Jeff looked around the kitchen. Though he knew the house was older, it had the most modern of conveniences; everything to make cooking and cleaning up after as easy as possible. He made himself comfortable in one of the ladderback kitchen chairs and stretched out his legs, putting his cup on the table top. Lou joined him, licking her stirring spoon and setting it down, bowl up, on the table beside her cup.

"So, is this 'some other time'?" Jeff asked. "Are you going to tell me what happened between you and Greg?"

Lou sat back and regarded him for a moment, then dropped her eyes. "I'm really surprised that Lucy didn't tell you anything about it. She was such a rock for me while it was all going on."

Jeff shook his head. "She didn't. But again, I wasn't around as much as I could have been then. Besides, if I know Lucy, she probably thought it was a breach of a confidence to air yours and Greg's, uh, dirty laundry."

Lou's expression softened and she smiled a bit. "Yeah, you're right. She would have at that." She looked up at Jeff and gave him a rueful smile. "Wellll, there were several things, all of which came to a head in about a six month period. First, there was the childlessness issue. You might remember that I had a couple of miscarriages? And then the hysterectomy because of the fibrous tumors? It was impossible for us to have children after that. But the longer we were married, the more important having kids became to him. Lucy suggested that adoption might be an option, and I brought that to Greg, telling him I'd be amenable to adopting a child. He seemed happy with that, and we started the process."

She took a sip of coffee. "But Greg's company kept moving us around. It seemed that every time I would get comfortable in a place and make some friends that I could confide in, they would relocate us. Our move away from Kansas was one of those. We had to drop the adoption idea because we didn't stay in one state long enough to go through the whole process! And they didn't always move us to the most opportune places for my job, either. Greg would choose where we were going to live, then leave me with the details of the move." She smiled ruefully. "I got really good at it after a bit. Usually I'd draw the short end of the stick when it came to commuting time, spending hours on the monorails or even driving. I'd come home exhausted, and he started staying late at work. He grew more and more unhappy with our situation, and wanted more and more to have children. But he wasn't willing to give up his job so we could stay in one place and adopt.

"The last straw was when I came home from an overseas assignment and found half our furnishings gone. He left me a long, rambling note, the gist of it being that he wanted a divorce because I wouldn't give him children. Not couldn't, but wouldn't. He said he'd found someone at his work who was only too glad to oblige him and I discovered later that she was already in the process of doing so when he left.

"I gave him the divorce, making sure that my assets were secure and seeing to it that he paid me alimony for a set number of years. And after I got through all the guilt and the anger, and the bruising to my ego healed, I found out it was a good thing. I was able to settle down here, to start making friends in the community, to do for some of my old friends and their kids the things I had wanted to, but Greg had said 'no' to." She smiled, a genuine one this time. "I felt free. Of course, I missed the sex, but... you can't always have everything."

"But why no pictures?" Jeff asked. "I know you loved him, once upon a time, and you had some good times together. Wouldn't you want to remember those?"

"I don't have pictures of him on display for probably the same reason that there're no pictures of Lucille on your desk," Lou said gently. "It still hurts sometimes."

Jeff nodded slowly. They sat quietly for a few moments, drinking their coffee, then Lou looked at her kitchen clock.

"Ready for some lunch? I think I might be able to fit a bit in now," she asked.

"Sounds good," Jeff replied, draining his coffee cup. She took it from him and put it beside hers in the sink.

"Get your coat and then I'll unlock the cat door," Lou told him. "I know Midnight wants out of the porch. He's a Rum Tum Tugger, that one; always on the wrong side of every door."

Jeff grinned, and went down to the guest room to fetch his jacket. He shut the door behind him just as a furry black streak ran down the hallway, trying to beat the door's closing. The cat lost the race, and sat down on the hardwood floor, looking up at Jeff with startlingly yellow eyes and mrrroawing in a scolding tone.

"Sorry, boy. This room is off-limits," Jeff said to the feline. He joined Lou at the coat closet and held her leather coat for her as she slipped her arms into it. "Thanks," she said, favoring him with a pleased smile.

Glancing inside the closet, he noticed the shoulder holster hanging up on a hook. The gun was nowhere to be seen. He wondered if she had had a gun on her when her plane went down. _Can't forget to tell her about the sabotage; it **is** the reason I came._

"What kind of food would you like?" Lou asked as she moved over to arm her security system. "Asheville's got a wide variety to choose from."

"I have no real preference," Jeff said. "Are we taking your truck?"

"Yes, if that's okay with you. We'll get places faster if I drive."

"Sure. Lead on, I follow," Jeff said with a mischievous smile.

Lou shook her head and said in an overly dramatic voice, "Once more into the breach, dear friends!" She motioned for Jeff to precede her and then she stepped out and closed the door behind her, firmly locking it with her remote. They walked together to her truck, climbed in, backed out of the drive, and started down the steep gravel road.

Lou turned left onto the two lane highway that followed the curve of the river. She passed by the opening to an old driveway, overgrown with young pines, and after a second or two, a car eased itself out of the greenery's cover and began to follow her truck. The driver picked up a satellite phone and placed a call.

"She's heading for the city. And she's got company."


	13. Jeff and Lou do lunch

_Author's note:_ Big thanks to my betareader Hobbeth for betareading and being a sounding board, and to Math Girl, ArtisticRainey, and Amanda Tracy for their encouragement and listening ears. **ETA due to charges of plagiarism:** _Vincenzo's, _the Italian restaurant in this chapter, is loosely based on a sadly now-defunct restaurant named _Vince Perone's_. (I called the same restaurant _Peroni's_ in _A Personnel Dilemma_.) If anyone has any questions about this, my email is available.

Now, on to my reviewers:

**Math Girl: **More to come about Lou, and more of Jeff relaxing with an old friend. Glad you liked the twist on the gunman.

**Amanda Tracy:** I thought that was rather funny myself!

**Girl-Detective: **Will they get to eat? You'll see.

**Claudette: **You ask a very pertinent question, one that Jeff will ask, and get an answer to... but not in this chapter.

**killhill2003: **Cliffhanger over? Sorry. There's more to come

**FrankieC:** Thanks for that lovely review, Frankie. I thought that line said it all, both about Lou and about Jeff.

_Disclaimer: _I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any and all original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

Lou pulled into a parking garage in downtown Asheville and found a space on the second level. The conversation on the way into the city was about the area where she lived and what attractions they might go visit the next day. She suggested the Arts Center on the Blue Ridge Parkway. "It's not far and they often have demonstrations of the various crafts practiced here in North Carolina," she said. "There's a nice gift shop, too."

"I saw the entrance to the Parkway. What's it like in spring?"

"Nice. There are wildflowers blooming, and at the lookouts, you can see for miles. There're about as many different shades of green covering the hills as there are reds and yellows in the fall. In the summer, the greens become much more uniform. There's a sort of delicateness about the trees, too, in the spring. It's very refreshing."

They climbed out of the truck and Lou locked it securely, then they took the elevator down to the street. A block and a half of walking, and Lou pulled open the door to an Italian restaurant. The scent of garlic that oozed around the outer door grew stronger as they stepped inside, and Jeff found his mouth beginning to water.

"This is Vincenzo's. It's owned and run by a family of fifth generation Italian-Americans from the North End of Boston. Believe me, the accents on the kids is a really strange mix! The eggplant parmiagiana is fabulous and the chicken marsala isn't far behind. The one thing they're really famous for is their pasta, which is made right here," Lou explained.

Jeff looked around. The outside of the restaurant was uniformly part of the brick building that housed it, that is to say, it didn't stand out and scream its presence with some manufactured and jarring facade. He had noticed evidence of tables right next to the windows, discreetly separated from the foot traffic on the sidewalk by a series of beige tab curtains on a long rod. Inside, there was an impression of dark woods, and eggshell stucco walls with reproductions of Italian and Roman statuary, most in miniature, settled on small shelves scattered around the large room. The larger statues stood on the floor, mostly images of men, half clothed, with muscular chests and classic features, hauling around carved vines laden with carved grapes. He hadn't remembered seeing a terrace as they came in, but there was one if the two sets of French style doors with their walnut finish and beveled panes on the far wall were any indication. The tables were covered in white linen, and were surrounded by dark walnut chairs, their backs made of three slats, bent slightly backwards, their seats upholstered in a red striped fabric. There was a bar behind the hostess station, raised two steps from the main floor and surrounded by a low stucco wall, topped by a brass rail. If there was a televid, it was well concealed from where they stood.

They didn't have long to wait for a table. A short, plump older woman, dark hair pulled back into a braid, came to the waiting area and beamed at Lou. "Lucinda! Where have you been?" The woman's strong accent proclaimed her origins as far north of her present abode.

"Out and about, Gisella, as usual," Lou responded, smiling.

"You bring us a new customer? Perhaps _un nuovo amante_?" Gisella asked, pulling out menus and looking Jeff up and down with appreciation.

Lou colored, and Jeff chuckled to see it. "A new customer but an old friend," she said, following along as Gisella beckoned and led them to a table for two. Jeff pulled out Lou's chair for her, then sat across from her, picking up the menu and perusing the wine list.

"Enjoy!" Gisella said as she patted Lou on the shoulder and went back to her station.

A waiter made a prompt appearance, a young man with olive skin and dark hair worn in a mop of floppy curls. He grinned at Lou. "Hey, Miz Myles," he said cheerily, pulling his data pad from the back pocket of his black trousers. He pulled out a stylus and asked, "The usual to drink?"

"Yes, Fred," Lou replied. "Sweet tea with lemon. Jeff?"

Jeff looked up and said, "A glass of your best Chardonnay."

"Comin' right up," Fred responded, using his stylus to write the order then upload it to the bar. "I'll give you some more time with the menus."

"Thanks, Fred," Lou said with a smile. She leaned across to Jeff. "White wine? I guess you're not going for one of the beef dishes?"

"No." Jeff put his menu aside. "You mentioned the chicken marsala and it sounds great, so I thought I'd try that."

"You won't regret it," Lou informed him. "I think I'll have the spinach lasagne for a change. Something light... I think."

Fred returned with the drinks and took their orders, uploading them to the kitchen, and removing the menus. There was a moment of silence between them as they sipped their beverages, then Lucinda sat up, putting her glass of tea down on its coaster.

"So. We've talked about me for a bit. Now let's talk about you and yours. How's your mother?"

Jeff chuckled. "Doing much better. A couple of days of sun, sea air, and sleeping in her own bed has helped immensely. Her appetite is improving and so are her spirits. The only problem we have is keeping her from jumping the gun and overdoing." He hesitated. "She heard me talking about you and I told her what had happened to you."

Lou rolled her eyes ceiling-ward. "I bet_ that _was well-received."

"Hardly," Jeff replied, shaking his head. He sipped his wine again, and set down his goblet. "I wish I knew where all this animosity of hers came from. I mean, even Lucille trusted you!"

Lou looked down at her hands, then back up at Jeff. "Uh, that's not quite true, Jeff. Lucille didn't. Not at first, anyway."

Jeff's face was a study in puzzlement, and he was about to ask a question, but Fred chose that moment to bring their salads and a basket of soft breadsticks. They both sat quietly while he served them, topped off Lou's tea, and told them he'd be back soon with their entrées. As soon as he was out of earshot, Jeff leaned toward Lou.

"What do you mean 'not at first'?" he asked.

Lou sighed. "One day while I was in the office that I'd been assigned as part of my 'employment' with Tracy Aerospace, Lucille paid me a visit. She came in and greeted me, then closed the door behind her. I offered her a chair, but she ignored that. She looked me in the eye and flat out asked me, 'Are you having an affair with my husband?'."

Jeff's eyes widened. "She didn't!"

Lou nodded. "She did."

"Well, what did you tell her?"

Lou's eyes roved around the room for a moment before meeting Jeff's again. She sighed, a frustrated sound. "The truth... or as much of it as I could without jeopardizing the investigation. I said that, no, you and I were not having an affair." She shrugged. "I couldn't tell her everything. Not then. I wanted to, thought it might put her mind at ease. But we were so close to nailing the perps that if even the slightest whiff got out about who I really was, they'd be on the next plane out of the country with all the evidence."

"What did she say to that?" Jeff asked, fascinated and concerned at the same time over this behavior from his beloved Lucy.

"She looked me over and her eyes narrowed, then she said that she didn't think she could trust me around her husband," Lou replied, her gaze wandering again. Jeff noticed that her eyes kept straying toward the door. She brought her attention back to him and continued. "Greg and I were still sort of in the 'newlywed' stage, and something I remembered from our premarital counseling popped into my head and I blurted it out. I told Lucy that I wasn't the one she had to trust: you were. And that if she couldn't trust you, then... she'd better take a good look at her marriage."

Jeff sat back with an uttered, "Whew! What did she say to that?"

"She blinked a couple of times and looked as if she wanted to say something. Instead she just turned on her heel and left the office." Lou sipped her tea. "I thought, 'That's the last I see of her!' I was wrong."

"What happened?"

"The day after we made the arrests, I was cleaning out the office, getting ready to leave, when she came back. Same deal as before; she greeted me then closed the door. This time she said that she was sorry she had misjudged me. Said that she had thought about what I'd told her about trust, and that I was right. You were the one she had to trust, and she did. I accepted her apology, and went back to cleaning out the office. She headed for the door, then turned to me and asked, 'Do you have time for a cup of coffee?' I was surprised, but I said yes. I finished up my packing and took my stuff down to my car, then we went to a local coffee shop and that, as Bogie put it, was the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Jeff shook his head. "I never knew this, any of this. The two of you just seemed to hit it off..."

"We did," Lou said. "Just like you and I did. It just took a little clearing of the air, that's all."

Fred came over with their entrées, and Jeff sniffed at his appreciatively. He peered at Lou's plate and asked, "Are you going to be able to eat all that?"

Lou gave him a pained look. "I don't think so. Fortunately, they believe in take-out boxes here. Many are the times I've made one of their meals into two."

Things were quiet between them for a while as they applied themselves to their food. Lou asked about the boys, and Jeff told her that John was back home but that Alan was now out on company business. He watched as her eyes kept glancing over at the door and every time she did, she looked worried.

"Are you expecting someone?" he finally asked.

She turned, startled, and gave him a small smile. "Uh, no, not really." And through the rest of the meal she kept her eyes squarely on her immediate surroundings.

About halfway through his chicken marsala, Jeff said quietly, "Lou, about your... accident, the one that landed you on my island. There's something you should know..."

Lou, in the middle of a gulp of tea, waved her hand. She swallowed and said, "Please, Jeff. Let's not talk about that here. Interpol assured me that they'd launch a full investigation when I debriefed the other day." Jeff wasn't sure about it, but he thought she had put a small stress on the word, "here". _I guess I'll broach the subject in private, then, _he thought.

At last, Jeff finished eating, wiping his mouth with the red linen napkin and draining his glass of wine. Lou had given up about halfway through her lasagne and had asked Fred for a take-out container.

"Dessert, anyone?" Fred asked with a grin.

"None for me, thanks," Jeff replied.

Fred nudged Lou, who gave him a sideways look. "Frederico..." she said in a warning tone.

"_Nonna_ Francesca's cannoli..." he said in a teasing voice, a smug smile on his face. "With the sweet chocolate cheese filling..."

Jeff chuckled to see Lou's face go from stern and unrelenting to one who knew she was about to cave in. She glared at him, then turned to Fred.

"How fresh?"

"Filled about fifteen minutes ago. In fact," Fred's voice dropped down to a conspiratorial level and he bent over so he was near Lou's ear, "_Nonna_ heard you were here and made up a batch of the sweet chocolate cheese filling... just for you."

Lou turned to him and stuck a finger in his face. "Don't you tell me any terrible stories, Fred. I'll only believe it if _Nonna_ Francesca comes out and tells me that herself!" She lowered her finger. "However, I'll have _one_... just one... to go."

Fred smiled the smile of the salesman who's found the perfect mark. "Coming right up, Miz Myles!" He entered the order in his data pad and uploaded it to the kitchen. In just a few minutes, an elderly lady came out with the promised dessert in a clear plastic container.

"Lucinda!" she cried while Lou covered her red face with one hand and Jeff laughed. "Lucinda Myles, are you calling my grandson a... a... fibber?"

Lou rose, laughing, and embraced the petite grandmother. "Truly, _Nonna_, I didn't know you were back from Boston." She looked at Fred, who was grinning wider than the Cheshire Cat. "And you know what kind of snake oil salesman your grandson is!"

"Well, I'm back and you'd better remember that!" Francesca scolded good-humoredly. "I just went up there just long enough to get my accent recharged." Her merry eyes danced their way to meet with Jeff's. "And who is this? Why haven't you had him back to the kitchen to introduce him?"

Lou sighed, smiling. "This is an old friend of mine, Jeff... just Jeff."

Francesca held out her hand. "It's nice to meet you... just Jeff." She winked at him as Lou got redder.

Jeff took the hand and instead of shaking, kissed the gnarled middle knuckle. "A pleasure and a privilege, _signora_."

"Oooh! A smooth operator, this one," Francesca said, chuckling. "Better keep an eye on him, Lucinda."

"He's just a friend, Francesca. We've known each other for years. I was particularly close to his late wife," Lou said in explanation.

"Ah! Well," Francesca said, smiling, "it was a pleasure to meet you, Jeff. And because you're a friend of our Lucinda..."

Jeff held up his hand. "No ma'am. I am wining and dining this lady today and I insist on paying. Besides," Jeff turned to look across the room where Fred was waiting on another table. "That young rogue deserves a nice commission."

Francesca chortled. "I won't insist, then." She handed the box with the dessert in it to Lou. "Enjoy. Come back again soon."

"I will, _Nonna_, I promise," Lou said, kissing the old woman on the cheek. "See you later."

Jeff glanced over at Lou. "Ready to go?"

"Yes, just wait for Fred. He'll come over with the bill." Lou sat back down, as did Jeff. "Dang, she put two cannoli in here." She looked up at him. "I guess one's for you."

"The way you were going on, these must be the height of high cuisine. I look forward to tasting it," Jeff said with a teasing grin.

Fred came over with the bill in a folder and handed it to Jeff, who pulled out his wallet. He wrote a figure down on the bill as a tip, selected a credit card, slipped it into the folder, then handed it back to Fred. Lou watched out of the corner of her eye as the waiter took it over to the cashier station and pulled out the card. Suddenly, his head shot around to look at Jeff sitting there with their regular customer. Then he took out the actual bill, and took a step back. He waved Gisella over, and showed the documents to her. Her reaction was similar, and Lou smiled.

"I think you've made a splash here, Jeff," she said quietly. "They are going to remember the day Jeff Tracy came to eat at their restaurant."

"Not if I make a habit of it," he replied. "The food here is excellent and worth coming back for. And the company's not bad either." He winked a her and she rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

Gisella came over. "Uh, Mr. Tracy? Did you mean to put...?"

Jeff gently interrupted. "Yes, I did. Run it through as written, please. Someone can add it to his college fund."

Gisella nodded, and smiled, then went back to the cashier's station.

Lou looked at him with suspicion. "How much?" she asked.

"Not telling," Jeff replied coolly. Then he leaned forward. "Don't worry, it was bigger than average, but not the price of a Ferrari."

Lou chuckled. A flustered Fred came over for Jeff's signature, and gave him the customer's copy. "Th-Thank you very much, Mr. Tracy."

"Thank you, Fred. You gave superlative service and provided me with some entertainment, too," Jeff said with a grin. Then he patted the younger man's upper arm and pointed at him. "College fund."

"Yes, sir!" Fred replied, smiling and hurrying off as a customer called him.

Jeff helped Lou on with her coat, which had been draped over the back of the chair. Then the two left, Lou with her boxes in hand. The day outside had become gray and drizzly and they walked quickly back to the parking garage. Jeff noticed that Lou kept looking around, scanning the area, noting each one of the few people who hurried by, intent on getting out of the weather.

"Is something wrong, Lou?" he asked, frowning.

She shook her head and sighed, then smiled slightly. "No. It's okay. Really." Jeff wasn't convinced, but he dropped the subject... for the moment.

"Where to now?" she asked. "We could go back to the house, or take a quick excursion up the Parkway and hit a couple of the scenic overlooks."

"How scenic could they be in this drizzle?" he asked.

"You'd be surprised," she replied as she unlocked her truck.

"Okay, I'm game," Jeff said, climbing in the passenger side door. "Show me how scenic wet and cloudy mountains can be."

She grinned, then pulled out of the space and, after paying for the privilege of parking there, drove away and out of the city.

Jeff recognized the route as the one he himself had taken to her home, and that she had used to bring them into the city. But just before they reached the spot where the road began to follow the French Broad River, she turned right, following the signs that said, "Blue Ridge Parkway". They passed a drive with a sign for an arboretum, and Jeff made note of it as a place of interest. But Lou took them up a steep ramp that wound around a good-sized hill, and at the top, took a right.

"You can't see the river very well from here," Lou explained as they drove. The road, well-paved and tended, snaked its two lanes higher and higher. "If we go to the Arts Center, we'll go in the opposite direction and cross the bridge over the river. It's quite a view in itself. But the actual Parkway is more scenic this way and has a series of tunnels, some short, some long, where the mountains themselves are bored through. There are walking trails in some places. My neighbors at the Inn down the road are hikers, and we've gone along some of the intermediate trails."

They traveled for about twenty minutes before they found a scenic overlook to Lou's liking. As they pulled into the gravel parking lot, Jeff got a glimpse of low clouds and green. Then Lou hopped out of the truck, and he followed.

The view was breathtaking. Low gray clouds, their under edges wispy, moved with stately slowness across the tops of the mountains across from them, obscuring exactly how high they were. The valley was full of woods, and fields, the fields a pale green from the growth of new grass, and the woods a range of colors from lime to hunter, each deciduous tree adding its own shade to the palette. There was a wet look to the branches nearest them, a darkening of the bark that made the sprouting, baby leaves show up even more vividly. Jeff turned and saw the forest behind them, and looking up, a low gray ceiling. He took in a deep breath, appreciative of the wet, earthy smell of damp air and moist leaf litter.

"You're right," Jeff said, standing closer to Lou, who had her hands in her coat pockets. "This_ is _lovely. Reminds me of parts of New Zealand. Only the mountains there are higher and wilder."

"I never got out of Aukland," Lou said quietly. "Wish I'd had time for some sightseeing."

"Lou, about your plane...," Jeff began, and then it hit him. _How do I tell her how I know it was sabotaged? I can't tell her we found it by using the sensors on Thunderbird Five. I can't tell her we sent out Thunderbird Four! That would be revealing our secret. And as good a friend as she is, I just can't expose IR to her. Not because I don't trust her, but because if anyone found out she knew, she'd be a target. And from what Gordon found out about her plane, she just may be one._

"Jeff?" Lou's call brought him out of his musings. "You were saying about my plane?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was just wondering if you had figured out any reason for it to go down, that's all," Jeff prevaricated.

"No, but I'm sure that my former employers will discover the cause if they can find the plane," Lou said tonelessly. She snapped her head around at the sound and sight of a car coming down the mountain, driving slowly past. She didn't turn around to watch its progress behind her, but she turned her head in the other direction to catch it as it continued down the slope.

_She is so jumpy!_ Jeff realized_. It's as if she thinks she's being shadowed. She may know more about this whole business than she's willing to tell._

The drizzle was giving way to actual rain now, and the clouds were lowering, threatening to envelop them in a thick, pea soup fog. Lou glanced over at Jeff and smiled. "We'd better get going. The weather is going sour and my cats will want their dinner soon."

"Okay," Jeff replied as he walked back to the passenger side door. He climbed in, and Lou took her place in the driver's seat. She backed out of the scenic overlook and headed back down the mountain, quietly concentrating on her driving in the worsening weather. Jeff glanced over at her from time to time, a serious and concerned look on his face. She caught him at it once, and smiled slightly, then reached over to touch his arm.

"We'll be home and dry soon enough."

They passed few other cars on the way back down, but one that they passed went up the mountain a short way, then made a U-turn, the driver turning off the lights as he did. Then he eased back down the mountain, turning the lights on again, staying close enough to see the tail lights of Lou's truck, but far enough back that he would be mistaken for nothing more than a careful driver in a rainy, rapidly darkening afternoon.


	14. Lou's revelation

_Author's note:_ Big thanks to my betareader Hobbeth for betareading and being a sounding board, and to Math Girl, ArtisticRainey, and Amanda Tracy for their encouragement and listening ears. Now, on to my reviewers:

**Math Girl: **I loved the area when I visited it. Thanks for the good word about the understanding the characters more, it's part of my goal for my readers to understand how these two interconnect.

**Claudette: **Yes, someone's after her for sure. More about that in this chapter. And thanks for the compliment on the descriptive passages. I'm glad you could see it in your mind's eye.

_Disclaimer: _I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any and all original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

The sleek black cat stalked his sure-footed way across the back of the leather couch. His gaze was focused on the human who had taken up his favorite corner of said sofa, who had, in fact, claimed it all. The human with the interesting scent that had appeared out of nowhere and invaded his (yes, it was _his_, despite what the she-cats had to say) territory. He stood about a foot from the end of the leather ridge, staring down at the unmoving form, his gleaming yellow eyes giving the intruder his best "you are my prey!" glare. He gathered himself to spring down upon the stranger when suddenly, he was swept off his perch and into the air by a strong and practiced hand. He protested, loudly. If his thinking processes involved words, he might have thought, "Curses! Foiled again!" 

"Oh, no, you don't, you insufferable blot," Lou muttered as she grabbed Midnight off the back of the sofa, one hand sliding under his chest to sweep him up and the other coming in to capture the hind legs and safely support them. "You are going to leave Jeff alone and let him sleep."

Upon their return to her house, Lou told Jeff to make himself at home while she put away the cannoli and her leftovers box, and fed her cats. She returned to the living room to find Jeff stretched out on the couch, shoes on the floor, thumbing through the _Asheville Citizen-Times_. He lowered his reading glasses to look up at her.

"You did tell me to make myself comfortable," he said mildly.

"I'm glad to see you took me literally," she riposted with a grin. "Do you mind if I check my cyber traffic?"

He waved a hand expansively and smiled at her. "Not at all." He rattled the paper. "Nice to see a real newspaper for a change."

She snorted a chuckle, then booted up her computer and began to check her emails. In the background, she heard him rustle the paper, flipping and folding it to make it easier to read, occasionally chuckling as he read the comics section. Twenty minutes later, after she had sent off an email to an old friend back in Wisconsin, she heard a soft snore and looked out to find Jeff asleep on the couch, one arm across his chest, the other dangling off the side, the newspaper crumpled on the floor below his limp fingers. She smiled, and got up to cover him with an afghan, slipping his reading glasses off and putting them on the end table by his head. Then she went back to her computer until the rustle of the sofa's loose leather back alerted her to Midnight's planned assault.

She took the cat down the hall and through the kitchen, opening the door to the enclosed back porch, then dropping the cat onto the wooden floor. The back porch was the cats' area, there were places to climb on and a large scratching post. A wooden shelf ran the length of the wall just under the wide windows, a perfect place for cats to safely view the world outside. Two litter boxes were kept out there and the door had a cat-sized hole in it, a piece of lightweight metal hanging from a spring hinge within the hole. The cats could push their way into and out of their play area easily, unless Lou used the magnetic hook to fasten the entry closed, as she did now. Midnight immediately tried to leave the porch, and on finding his exit blocked, began to complain in his loud meow.

"Sorry, boy, but I'm not listening to your complaints. You're staying out there until Jeff wakes up," Lou said as she went back into the kitchen. As she crossed the room, her vidphone extension rang. She hurried to answer it so Jeff wouldn't be disturbed by the one in the living room.

"Hello?" she said as she peered at the screen. A handsome blond looked back at her with a bit of confusion. "John! This is a pleasant surprise!" she said with a smile.

"Uh, hi, Aunt Lucinda," John Tracy replied, smiling nervously. "I didn't know for a minute if I'd gotten the right number since I didn't get to see you when you were here, and... I didn't exactly remember what you looked like."

Lou laughed. "Of course you didn't. You were only, what... five or six... when Greg and I left? If Scott, who was ten or so when we moved, couldn't remember, how were you supposed to?" She settled down in her kitchen chair. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Well, Scott wanted to know if Dad got there safely. He usually checks in with us when he arrives at his destination so we know that he's okay and didn't get hijacked or something on the way. Brains said he'd gotten to Atlanta okay, and Dad did call from the Asheville jetport, but we hadn't heard from him since so..."

"Put your mind at ease, John. He's here, taking a nap on my living room sofa. He took me out to lunch at my favorite Italian place and I think he's digesting the meal in the tried and true fashion of all Sunday diners. Would you like to talk to him?"

John shook his head. "No, Aunt Lucinda, not if he's asleep. Lord knows he could use the rest."

"Okay. I'll leave him be. So, how are _you_ doing? Did things go well during your jaunt into the corporate sector? When will I see your next book?" Lou asked. "What time of day is it over there, anyway?"

"It's late on Monday morning, Aunt Lucinda. I'm fine, my corporate trip was profitable, and I'm revising my first book and putting new pictures and notes in it to bring it up-to-date," John said, relaxing for the first time. "My publishers have been clamoring for it and I've got to put in some serious work over the next few weeks."

"I really enjoyed your book on the Tracy Quasar-hell, I've enjoyed everything you've written!" she said with a grin. "And not because you're an honorary nephew either! You've got a really clear writing style, and you make your subject come alive. I was just fascinated with the way you presented your facts. What was it like, discovering that?"

"Oh, it was amazing! I ate, drank, and breathed the quasar for several weeks," John said eagerly. "In fact, I was out of touch for a while, and Dad got worried. He came to visit and I was able to show it to him."

"I bet he was as excited as you were," Lou commented. "So, where were you when you found this? What observatory?"

"Oh, I was up in the International Space Station at the time," John lied. He hated the lie, but he and Jeff knew that people would ask the question from time to time and they had to say something, so this is what they had agreed on. And John _had _spent some time there as part of his NASA duties.

"No wonder why you could see it so clearly!" Lou remarked. "You were outside of Earth's atmosphere. Really, it was a remarkable achievement for someone as young as you were."

"Yeah, I know," he replied in a modest tone. He leaned in closer. "Aunt Lou, if I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone else? I mean, I realize that I haven't gotten a chance to know you very well, but I'm busting to tell this to someone, and since you liked my books so much..."

"Now, John," Lou chided. "What is it that you can tell me but not your father? Or your brothers? Or your grandmother, for that matter. You're not in any trouble, are you?"

John waved a hand across his face and shook his head. "No, no, no, nothing like that. It's just that, if I tell my brothers, they'll probably tease me. Well, at least Alan and Gordon will. And if I tell Father or Grandma, they'll be asking about it all the time, and if I fail, or decide not to pursue this, I don't want to disappoint them."

"Okay, John. You can tell me. I won't tell anyone... unless it's illegal," Lou said sincerely. "I feel like if it's illegal, I should stop it somehow. Old habits, you know."

John chuckled. "Agreed." He leaned closer again. "I'm trying to write a novel. A science fiction novel."

Lou's eyes lit up. "Really? How wonderful! You can do it, John. I know you can. You've got all the tools: a good writing style, a wealth of knowledge about astronomy and aeronautics... hey, I don't think you can miss!" She shook a finger at his image in the vidphone screen. "I want an autographed first edition! I want to be able to tell my friends that I knew this best-selling author way back when!"

John laughed. "I'll see you get one, if I ever get it done and published. It's harder to write a story than regurgitate facts; no matter how well you dress them up, they're still facts. This creating a world of my own and putting it in words so that the reader can see what I see in my head is tough stuff!"

"I bet it is," Lou said. "And I wish you luck at it. Are you going to use your real name? Or a pen name?"

"Haven't decided yet. I'm torn between playing on my 'worldwide recognition' as a published author, and the desire to keep my two writing worlds separate." He smiled wryly. "I still have time to think about it. I've barely gotten an outline done. First things first, though. I need to finish my revision."

"Sounds like a plan." Lou replied. She looked over at her clock. "I'd better go. Tell Scott that your Dad is here and safe and I'm enjoying his company. Say 'hello' to everyone for me, okay? Everyone except maybe your grandmother. Your father intimated that she didn't know where he was and he didn't want her to know."

"So I've been warned by Scott," John said, rolling his eyes. "I'll have to ask her what the problem is."

"If you get an answer, tell me," Lou replied with a rueful smile. "I'd like to know, too."

"Okay, Aunt Lou. Can I call you that? It's so much less formal..."

"Sure. Go ahead. Listen, I've really got to go. It's been great chatting with you, John. I'll let your dad know that you called, okay?"

"Okay, Aunt Lou. Talk to you some other time. Bye!"

"Goodbye, John." And with that, the call was disconnected.

Lou got up from her seat and walked quietly down the hall. Peering into the living room, she made sure that Jeff was still asleep. He was; in fact, he had turned over onto his side and pulled the afghan up to the top of his shoulder. Lou smiled, then went quietly back down the hall. Opening the door to the basement, she padded downstairs, the leather moccasins she used as slippers making barely audible scuffling sounds on the steps. Slipping through the dark storage room and past the punching bag and weight bench, she entered the workshop. Only then and there did she turn on the light.

She pressed the hidden button on the music player as she checked the disk that was inside, then pressed "play". The music started as the red light came up and she reached up and over the player for a hammer, toggling the switch in back as she came back down with the tool. She waited for a long moment, looking all over her work bench for something until the tiny light came up green. Then she let out a relieved breath, put the hammer on the pitted work surface, and reached for the hidden glassy spot. The once invisible door slid open silently, and Lou hurried into the room. Immediately, she started the computer inside.

"It's about time, Tony," she muttered, manipulating the mouse and keyboard to the place she wanted to go. A complex password put her into a secure website, and there was a number "1" in the email inbox. She accessed it, and downloaded the contents to a restricted section of her computer's hard drive. She logged off the website and got offline, breaking the wireless satellite connection that her hidden computer had with the outside world. She stared at the file for a moment, then took a deep breath and opened it. Scrolling through, she smiled.

"It's beautiful, Tony. Just beautiful," Lou whispered to herself. "Simple and deadly. And with none of your customary bells and whistles, which will keep you from coming under suspicion. Now, all I have to do is put in the parameters and load it up. Where's the tutorial you promised? Ah. Right there. Gotta make this as fast as I can, before my guest upstairs wakes up."

xxxx

Jeff woke up, disoriented. He squinted and rubbed his eyes, gazing around at the unfamiliar surroundings. Then he remembered. _I'm at Lou's place. Boy, I must have really needed that nap! Wonder what time it is?_

Pushing back the afghan, _How did this get here? _he swung his legs off the couch and sat up. Looking for his shoes, he came eye to eye with Lou's fluffy gray and peach cat, who rubbed up against his ankle. "What did your mistress call you again? I know it was cutesy and odd. Muffins? That doesn't sound quite right. Hmm. I'll have to ask Lou again." He reached out a hand to stroke the thick, fluffy fur-and came away with a small handful of it. "Ugh! You're shedding!" He shook his hand automatically, letting the fur drop to the decorative rug, then, feeling guilty about leaving the clump there, he picked it up and tossed it in the wastebasket behind Lou's desk. Coming back to the couch, he started to put on his shoes, his efforts hampered by the cat, who found his wrists to be just as fascinating as she had found his trouser legs. Finally, he succeeded in getting himself shod, and went off in search of his absent hostess. There was some soft music coming from down the hall, and he followed it.

He found her in the kitchen, ready to reheat her spinach lasagne. She turned as he entered, rubbing the back of his neck and yawning.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she said with a smile. "You were really out for a while there."

"Yes, I was. I didn't realize how tired I must have been. What time is it?"

"Seven o'clock... my supper time. I fed the cats earlier and I am going to eat my leftovers from Vincenzo's. Can I get you a sandwich or scramble you some eggs? I'm afraid that Sunday night dinners are usually rather light around here."

"A sandwich sounds great, if it's not too much trouble," Jeff said.

"Not at all. What would you like? I have ham, roast beef, Swiss cheese, American cheese, pickles, mayo... what?" Lou asked, delving into the cryofridge to pull out her cooking supplies.

"Roast beef and Swiss sounds great," Jeff told her. "I can make it myself, you know."

She turned to look at him and grin. "Okay. Roast beef and Swiss cheese. There are some soft deli rolls and you can choose your own condiments."

Jeff grinned back. "Sounds like a plan. Cannoli for dessert, huh?"

"Ooh, yeah!" Lou's eyes twinkled. "I also have a plan for the rest of the evening."

"What is it? Something I should be concerned about?" Jeff asked, not looking at Lou so she couldn't see his amused expression. He spread some mayonnaise on one half of his deli roll, then positioned three or four kosher dill slices on the other half. Reaching into the container for the roast beef, he began to pile it on, then added a slice of Swiss cheese for good measure.

"Just wine, cheese, popcorn, and a good movie, that's all," Lou said as she moved toward the table with her lasagne and a glass of ice water.

"What movie did you want to watch?" Jeff asked as he cut the sandwich into two sections. He popped a pickle into his mouth and brought his meal to the table.

"Guest's choice," Lou said. "I'm willing to sit through whatever you select." She jumped up and got him a glass of ice water to wash down his thick entrée, then sat back down across from him.

He chewed and swallowed, then said, "Thanks." He drank deeply, then pointed at her. "You're a brave woman, Lou, letting me choose the movie. As I recall, your tastes in film were very different from mine. I like the action, shoot-em-up, explosions everywhere stuff and you preferred the old, nostalgic films."

"Yes, and Lucy liked the relationship chick flicks, and Greg preferred the horror and suspense genre," Lou said in agreement. "That's why we never went to movies as a group. We could never decide on what to watch."

Jeff chuckled. "Maybe that's why Greg and I never hit it off. Our tastes and interests were too diverse."

"Probably," Lou responded before taking another bite of her lasagne.

They ate in silence for a while, then Jeff asked, "Lou, why did you retire from Interpol? When you told me you'd done that, I was shocked. I never thought you'd leave there... unless they carried you out on a stretcher."

She waved a fork at him while she swallowed her mouthful. A sip of water, then, "I'll tell you why I retired, if you tell me how you know Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward. That was some big, impressive portrait of her in your living room-office, or whatever you want to call it."

Jeff blinked. "You know Lady Penelope?" he asked, incredulous.

"Well, let's say that I'm acquainted with her-on a professional basis," Lou answered. She cocked her head at him. "You do know she was a spook before deciding that the life of the pampered rich was more rewarding."

"Uh, yes, I did know that," Jeff stammered, his face turning pink. "She's... a friend. I met her three or four years ago through Sir Jeremy Hodge. We originally had some similar charitable interests and kept running into each other at functions for those charities. Eventually, she became a family friend."

Lou looked like she wanted to ask, "How good a friend?" but she refrained, and Jeff changed the subject. "Well, know you know how I know Lady Penelope. It's your turn. Tell me why you retired."

She shook her head and chuckled ruefully. "Oh, they were going to promote me, make me a supervisor."

"You retired to keep from getting _promoted_?" Jeff asked. "Excuse me for saying so, but that sounds a bit loco, Lou."

"Well, you said it yourself, Jeff. I'm an active person. Lord knows that I pushed enough paper around in my job as it was. Reading bank statements, scanning phone logs, digging through emails... all desk work that I loathed but knew was part of my job description under the 'research' part of 'research and surveillance'. But at least I managed to get out of the office and travel from time to time under the 'surveillance' part. Supervisors push papers and don't get to travel. I figured it was time to get out while I still liked the job. So, I took early retirement."

"Will you be okay? I mean, financially?" Jeff wanted to know.

"Oh, sure. I made some good investments, put aside money for the future, plus I have a retirement fund from work," she said confidently. "And there's no rule says I can't go into business for myself. How does 'Lou Myles, Private Investigator' sound?"

Jeff laughed. "You'd have more clients than you could shake a stick at, Lou. But do you really want to be following horny old men around, gathering evidence of their affairs for their wives? Or vice versa?"

Lou made a face. "No! Oh, Jeff, you would have to point out the big flaw in my plans, wouldn't you?" Having finished her lasagne, she got up. "Are you done?"

Jeff wiped his mouth on a napkin and nodded. She took his plate and hers and put them both in the autowasher. Then she pulled out the box with the cannoli in it and placed it on the table, taking out small dessert plates and putting one of the sweet treats on each dish and handing Jeff a fork.

"I've got wine just about ready to go, and cheese and crackers to go with it. Popcorn is never a problem," she said as she sat down, handing him a cannoli.

He shook his head. "You are determined to stuff me to the gills, woman."

"You have gills?" she quipped, peering at his neck on either side of his face as he shook his head again and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. She turned her attention to her dessert, crunching her fork through the cannoli's light crust and sliding the tines under the morsel. Bringing it to her mouth, she ate the bite, uttering an appreciative "Mmmmm!" She glanced over at Jeff to see his reaction.

"Very nice!" Jeff commented as he took a bite. His eyes met hers. "Your friend sure knows how to make a good cheese filling. Even if it is chocolate."

They finished their desserts, then Lou brought out the bottle of red wine she had put aside to let it breathe. She took out two goblets and handed them to Jeff, then brought out a small tray of cheese chunks and a sleeve of buttery crackers. "Here, you take these down to the living room and I'll pop some popcorn while you choose a movie. The disks are in the cabinet under the televid."

"Right." He did as she bade, and brought the snacks down to the living room, placing the cheese and crackers on the wide leather ottoman and the goblets on the end table where he found his reading glasses. The gray cat immediately homed in on the cheese. "Scat!" he said, trying to push her off. She looked up at him with unreadable eyes and growled. Concerned, he picked up the tray again and held it until Lou came along with a big bowl of popcorn and the bottle of wine.

"Uh, she's growling at me," Jeff informed Lou. "She seemed to want some cheese. I just picked it up to keep it from her."

"Tch!" Lou made a frustrated noise. "Moofums, you are a pest and a piglet." She swooped down and scooped up the cat. "Good thing you backed off when she growled. She would have scratched you if you hadn't. Of all of my cats, she's got the worst temper." With that, Lou walked off with the cat in her arms.

By the time she returned, Jeff was settled comfortably on the sofa, sipping some of the wine he'd poured, the televid set up and ready to go. "I put all the cats out on the porch. They'll be fine while we watch the film," she said as she sat down next to him. He handed over a goblet. "Thanks. By the way, John called earlier. Wanted to make sure you were okay."

"That's fine. I'll call him or Scott later, when I'm sure my mother's gone to bed," Jeff said. He lifted the remote. "Are you ready?"

She wriggled into a comfortable position, pulled the bowl of popcorn into her lap, and said, "Let 'er rip."

The televid started up and after the film studio's logo and distinctive accompaniment slid by, the strains of the opening credits music were heard. Lou sat up, surprised. "_Casablanca_? You rogue!"

"I thought you might appreciate it," Jeff said with a grin.

"I most certainly do," she replied, and then the only sound that could be heard for a while was the crunching of the popcorn and an occasional whisper for more wine.

When the movie finished, and Humphrey Bogart told Claude Rains, "Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship" before moving off into the rainy night, Lou clapped and Jeff laughed at her. He stretched, and Lou got up to deal with the disk.

"Do you realize how long it's been since I did something like this? Just relaxing with a good friend?" Jeff asked her as the movie finished.

"Too long, I'd guess," Lou replied as she shut down the machine. She risked a glance at Jeff. His hair was mussed, but some of the lines of care had been smoothed away and he looked relaxed, even younger. He caught her looking and winked at her, grinning as she blushed at being caught.

"Y'know, even when I was living in Kansas or New York, I didn't do this after Lucille died," Jeff said. "I was too busy scrambling to finish raising the boys and keep the business afloat. Most of my 'friends' dropped away, replaced with 'business acquaintances', men who I'd play golf or tennis with while talking business afterwards. And even those have disappeared since we... moved."

"I'm not surprised," Lou said, picking up her wine glass and sitting back down next to him. "It's usually the woman in a relationship that keeps the friendships going. Men, on the whole, don't call their friends up 'just to chat' like a woman would." She turned to him. "I was surprised to keep getting Christmas cards year after year. Women are usually the ones who take on that responsibility, too."

"Well... to tell the truth...," Jeff hemmed and hawed. "My secretary takes care of the Christmas card list. I sign the cards, maybe add a line, then she addresses them and mails them out. She's also in charge of purging the list yearly. So as long as I've gotten cards from you, you've gotten cards from me." He sighed.

"Ah! Now I understand," Lou replied. They sat quietly together for a few moments. Lou looked at him again, her face taking on an expression of worry. _Damn. I hate to do this to him now, when he's all relaxed and comfortable. But I can't put it off any longer._

What she asked was, "Want some coffee? I know it's late..."

"No, no coffee, thanks. I like how I feel right now," he replied with a smile, getting up and stretching.

"Okay. No coffee, then. But there is something I'd like to show you. Down in my workshop."

"You have a workshop?" Jeff asked, intrigued. "I suppose you'd have to, wouldn't you? Not having Greg around to do those little 'honey-do' projects."

"Let's not talk about him any more, please," Lou said with a touch of exasperation. "He's part of my past and I'd like to keep him there. As for the workshop, yes, I needed it to do maintenance. There's also a workout room of sorts, to do maintenance of a different kind. Come down and see it."

"Okay. Just let me fill my glass again." Jeff refilled his wine glass and took an appreciative sip. "You've got good taste in wine."

"I only buy wine that tastes good," was her answer as she guided him out of the living room and down the hall.

In the kitchen, she put her own wine glass aside on the small table, poured herself a glass of water, then opened the door and turned on the light to the basement. Jeff followed her down the winding stairs, holding onto the rail tightly. His eyes widened and he nodded to see the punching bag in the center of the main portion of the basement and the weights off to one side.

"I see what you meant about a different kind of maintenance," he quipped.

She smiled slightly. "Yes, have to keep the martial arts skills sharp and the figure in shape." Lou led him past the equipment. "The workshop is in here."

She turned on the music player, flooding the room with the same light jazz that was playing in the kitchen. He watched with puzzlement as she pushed a small button on the side of the player and a tiny red light came up. He sat down on the workbench stool as she showed him the tools she had acquired and talked about the little things she had done around the house. Just as he was getting bored. he heard her say softly, "That should do it." Then she reached behind the player and he heard the quiet snick of a switch. Lou unconsciously held her breath as the red light turned to green. She gave Jeff a little smile, then reached over and rubbed the concealed glassy area.

Jeff nearly spilled his wine as a door slid open on the other side of the room. She picked up her drink and stepped into the dark void beyond the doorway. Lights came on inside and Jeff got a glimpse of a sophisticated computer system. She turned on the stereo in there, the light jazz matching what was playing in the workshop, then she looked out at him, and beckoned him inside. He followed, ducking his head, too stunned to say anything, and the door closed behind him.

There was a moment of silence between them as she booted up the computer. She motioned for him to sit down, then she leaned against the wall and sipped her water.

"I suppose you're wondering why all the cloak and dagger?" she said, making it more or a statement than a question.

"Yes. Absolutely," Jeff said sternly, all of his mellowness gone in this new revelation.

She looked down at the toes of her sneakers, then looked up to gaze into his eyes.

"My house is bugged. And I'm being watched."

He was tempted to scoff at her, but then he remembered what she had done for a living. "How can you be sure?"

"There are signs. I know how to spot a tail, how to detect a watcher. You saw me turn on the stereo? Then push a side button? That was an invention worked out by me and a friend. It detects any listening devices or cameras in a room. The red light meant that there was active surveillance going on. You saw me reach in back? I turned on a switch. When the light turned green, a second device was jamming whatever was in the room. I check all of my rooms daily, sometimes more than once. I checked them all when I got home from your island. They were all bugged while I was gone. I don't dare take the bugs out because then they'll know I'm on to them."

"What about this?" Jeff indicated the room they were in.

"They didn't find it. When I bought the house, there had been a porch over a portion of the basement, a small room that had been used to store coal. A contractor friend helped me take the porch down, dig out some of the floor, and build a good sturdy roof and ceiling over this room, one slightly below level of the ground around the rest of the foundation. That's why the ceiling is so much lower. We also poured a new concrete floor, and waterproofed the whole thing. He did the electrical and heating work, and built the door. Then I covered the top of the room with dirt and planted azaleas, so the ground outside looks natural. No one who measures the square footage of the house and the basement would find any discrepancy between the two." She sipped her drink. "He has no idea what I use it for. I told him I wanted a panic room."

"I bet he thought you needed one. Why, Lou? Why all this secrecy?"

She swallowed another mouthful of water. "Why? I guess part of it is the nature of my old job. The longer you're in such a situation, the more paranoid you get because you know how easily you can become the target. You know how the skills and devices of your job can be turned around and used against you. Especially if you come across some potentially damaging information about some powerful person. Or... some sensitive information that no one should have. Period."

There was a pregnant pause, and Jeff took a sip of wine. He considered the woman before him; in public so very much his old friend, but here, much more serious, much more focused, and much more intense than he remembered. She watched him over the rim of her glass, their eyes meeting, doubt and suspicion in his and, in hers, a quiet sadness.

"So. Why did you bring _me _down here?" he asked.

She put her glass down, and reached under the desk, pulling out a silvery disk. She showed it to him, letting him read the notations on it, then slipping it into her computer's disk drive.

"Two, two and a half months ago, a colleague of mine handed me a file as he was heading out the door one evening. He told me that he was going on vacation, and not to open the file unless something happened to him. If something did, however, I was to... deal with the file." She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then down at Jeff again. Her voice wavered as she continued. "He said he could count on me to do the right thing." She stopped and swallowed, and when she picked up the narrative, her voice was steadier, but flat, as if recounting something she didn't want to remember. "I took the file and put it away safely. Three weeks into his month of vacation, he and his wife went to Istanbul. And there they were brutally murdered."

"I was upset, of course, and I offered to join the investigative team. But I was told that the locals would be handling it. That was red flag number one. When an Interpol agent is killed, we are in charge of the whole investigation, from beginning to end. There's usually a feeling of grim purpose around the offices. But not this time. This time I distinctly felt that it was all being swept under the rug.

"Then our supervisor came around, looking for all the jobs my colleague had been working on during the past few months. Red flag number two. A supervisor is supposed to be on top of that kind of information; she schedules everything. But it seemed that some of this agent's jobs had slipped through her fingers. I was suspicious by this time, and lied to her, saying that I hadn't gotten anything from him. Then I took the file home and came down here and opened it up.

"There were several sheets of paper, which I immediately burned. But, to my dismay, everything had been scanned and placed on this disk." She reached out and brought up a file and opened it. "This is the first picture I saw."

Jeff's eyes widened and he leaned toward the plasma screen. "Oh my God," he whispered. "Virgil..."


	15. Jeff gets a shock

_Author's note:_ A little note about the World Government and Interpol. The World Government from the comic books is based in the Bahamas and has a President and is basically in charge of everything that goes on between nations. In the comic books, their police arm is the World Police (not to be confused with _Team America: World Police_), but to me, Interpol is already in place, so why not use them? So in my story, Interpol oversees any cases that cross international borders, much like the FBI tackles interstate cases. They have their own officers and detectives, of which Lou was one. Get it? Got it? Good.

Big thanks to my betareader Hobbeth for betareading and being a sounding board, and to FrankieC, Math Girl, ArtisticRainey, and Amanda Tracy for their encouragement and listening ears. Now, on to my reviewers:

**Girl-Detective: **Ah, yes. I'm glad you're loving it. So am I.

**Meercat: **I laughed for a solid hour when I read your review! First I'm a toad, now I'm the Devil and Evil Incarnate. I've never been called so many names before. Yes, Interpol's interested in Virgil, but... well, read on!

**ColorRadO: **Thanks for the compliment on Jeff and Lou and how they're interacting. As for what's going to happen, here's another chapter.

**Math Girl: **Thanks for the comments and for not being a spoiler. More of John? I'll see what I can do.

**fellowriverrat: **Welcome to the story. And thank you for all the great comments. I'm so glad you're finding this a good read. I've always thought that Penelope was far too young for Jeff, and far too superficial. He needs a good friend, someone he doesn't have to impress (remember that awful suit with top hat and him trying to put on a British accent?). As far as the boys are concerned, right now Jeff and Lou are just old friends catching up. If something more comes of it, I'm sure we'll hear from them on the subject. I hope you like this as much once your cold lets you catch up.

**Clairie: **Did you really think about it all day? And you're not the only one who says I'm mean...

**Claudette: **Mwahahahaha! I can and I did! And is this soon enough for you? My muse just keeps rolling along here. Chapter 16 is already in process

**killhill2003:** I'm glad you liked the part between John and Lou. That kind of came out of left field but it worked.

**FrankieC:** Yeah, yeah. I know all about you and Virgil... just read on, girlfriend, and see what's going to happen.

_Disclaimer: _I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any and all original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

"How? Where?" Jeff sputtered. He turned his face to Lucinda, looking for answers. 

"This is an identikit sketch of Virgil made from eyewitness accounts. So is this one." She opened another file.

"Scott." Jeff shook his head slowly. "Damn."

"Those are the best of the sketches, but this is more worrisome to my mind," Lou said, manipulating the mouse. Another file came up. "This fingerprint doesn't belong to Scott, Gordon, or John. It was run through the military and criminal databases and no match was found." She opened another window. "Here's a sketch of Thunderbird One; he also got them of Thunderbirds Two and Four, but just a bare description of a Thunderbird Three. There are also sketches and descriptions of, let's see... Mole, Firefly, and some odd vehicle with plungers on the sides? You'd know what they are better than I would. He got photos taken by a camera with a zoom lens, vid taken the same way, eyewitness accounts, names, times, details on practically every one of International Rescue's operations. You should go through them carefully."

Jeff did so, his concern mounting with every new piece of information. "So much data! Where did he get it all? How did this get past us?"

"Simple. A nice 'reporter' asks a rescued person some questions while working on a 'story' about International Rescue. A nice 'artist' does a sketch of one of the operatives or a machine that saved a person's life. Someone does some ambulance chasing, gets some long range footage, and is offered top dollar for it. All very innocent-looking, but little by little the bits and pieces fall into place." She sipped some more water. "He had been working at least six months on it, maybe longer."

"But... _why_?" Jeff asked his confusion and disbelief plain on his face.

Lucinda stood quietly for a moment. Then she sighed. "That _is_ the question. I've done some discreet checking on my own, talking to some of my old informants. The rumors I've heard from my friends in the Bahamas say that there's a movement in the World Government to create a rescue organization like International Rescue. An organization that would be used as a carrot-and-stick to keep recalcitrant nations in line. You don't play ball, you don't get the services, or something like that. But for this to be effective, you can't have altruistic, non-partisan International Rescue running around, can you? So, how do you get rid of the competition?" She paused, then put down her glass again. "You out them. Strip away their anonymity. Or, conversely, you blackmail them into working for you by_ threatening _to out them. That way, you have their tech and personnel and you don't have to underwrite the start-up costs of your own unit. Either way, it's a win-win situation. Whoever's behind this figured that Interpol could best do the dirty work of collecting the blackmail data."

Jeff shook his head slowly, then stopped, his face creased in a thoughtful frown. He turned his frown to her. "Lou, you said you were given this two months ago. Surely you had figured out who was behind IR then. Why didn't you come to me when you first looked at the file?"

Lucinda avoided his glance. "I wasn't sure. I mean, I _thought_ that those were pictures of Scott and Virgil, but I wasn't _sure_. Identikit sketches aren't always the most accurate, especially when made from a variety of eyewitnesses. Plus, I hadn't seen any of your boys for years. It wasn't like I'd been getting school pictures every Christmas like Lucille sent out when they were young." At last she met his gaze. "And I certainly couldn't go to you if they _weren't_ pictures of Scott and Virgil. It would be like handing you the secrets of IR when you had no right to them. It was only when karma intervened that I saw your boys again, close up. Only then did I know for certain who was backing International Rescue."

"So, did you fake the plane crash?" Jeff asked softly.

"No, Jeff. I didn't," Lucinda answered testily. "What makes you think I did?"

"Gordon went out to find the remains of your plane. We had managed to pinpoint the location using a GPS satellite." Even now, Jeff refused to give her any more information than what she already had. "He found it and noticed that the fuel gauge was on 'full' when it should have been lower. And there was no black box. Someone had either taken it already or it had been removed before you left. A salvage buoy was attached."

Lucinda scratched the back of her neck. "Well, that explains a lot. I'm pretty sure I was given a falsified weather report before I took off. And yeah, now that I remember it, the engine did sound like it was stalling. I didn't understand why. Now I do. And it explains why, when I reported the accident, I was given a brush off. They were already dealing with it."

Jeff frowned at her again. "You mean... _Interpol _tried to... kill you?"

"Kill me? No, not exactly. It was a calculated risk, making my plane go down, but they must have had a back up plan to pluck me from the plane if I didn't get out on my own. And it probably wasn't Interpol proper, but a rogue element in it. Interpol is a police organization, not some secret CIA-type outfit. They have rules to follow, laws to obey. I bet my co-worker just thought he was doing some routine fact gathering at first. But not knowing just where in the World Government this idea about IR comes from..." She glanced over at Jeff, whose frown was dissolving into incredulity, and she gave him a rueful smile. "Jeff, if they had wanted to kill me, my plane wouldn't have gone down. It would have blown up." She let this sink in, then continued. "They just wanted to get me out of the way so they could search this place and, when they didn't find what they were looking for, bug it without my interference. Which means that they think I have the file." Her face saddened. "It also means that my co-worker and his wife were killed for that information."

"And they... whoever _they _are... will be back for it, won't they?" Jeff said, his anger doused by sudden concern for her.

Lucinda shrugged. "Probably. But I can handle that. The good thing is that something happened they didn't expect. _Serendipity. _I survived by washing up on_ your _beach. And my suspicions were confirmed about International Rescue's operatives. Finally, I had a direction. I could make a plan to get this information to the people who needed it most. To get this information to _you _before I destroyed it. Because that's what I'm going to do. That's the only thing I _can _do. I can't leave this around for my watchers to find." Sighing, she said, "That's probably why my coworker gave the file to _me_. He must have suspected or deduced who was behind IR and realized that I had a connection there from my investigation so long ago. He also probably figured that what was going on wasn't quite kosher and that's why he made his comment. He knew I'd do what was right."

Jeff blew out a puff of air, then he took her hand. "Lou... I'm sorry for having doubted you. It just seemed like such an... engineered coincidence. Especially after I've seen all... this." He waved his free hand toward the plasma screen, where a sketch of Thunderbird Four, sitting half out of the water, dominated the area.

She squeezed his hand and smiled. "I know. And I forgive you. It's funny how karma works sometimes. But this time it has definitely worked in your favor. Now we have to figure out how to get this information to a safe place so that you can refer to it later as you plug the holes in your security. Any ideas?"

"No. Not at the moment. I think I'm still in shock over this whole thing," he admitted.

She sighed. "There's something else you should know."

"What's that?" Jeff asked, his face again a concerned frown.

"Kyrano. When I got back, I did background checks on him, Tin-Tin, and Brains." She shook her head, and said wryly, "That man's name! No wonder he prefers the nickname. In any case, he and Tin-Tin came up clean. But Kyrano has a connection to a very nasty character." She leaned over and took control of the mouse, clicking the cursor on a file name. A police record, complete with picture, came up. "He was hard to find; seems he's only been arrested once, but he's got dealings in the underworld everywhere. He's known as the Hood. His real name is Belah Gaat. His specialty is stealing new tech to sell on the black market. He's a master of disguise and is reported to have some kind of power over people's minds." She turned her gaze to Jeff. "He's also Kyrano's half brother."

Jeff nodded, his eyes narrowing. "Good to finally see his true face." He looked up at Lou. "We've had brushes with him, more than once, though it took some time to put all the pieces together. Penelope got us the information on who he was and what he wanted, though she didn't have any pictures." He glanced back at the screen. "He had some kind of hold over Kyrano's mind, and would force him to tell our secrets, what few he actually knew. Then he'd try to create some disaster to lure us out so he could get pictures of our craft. His attacks on Kyrano looked like neural seizures and puzzled us for a good long time." Jeff took in a deep breath, and let it out. "Once we knew about him, Kyrano went into seclusion for a month and when he came out, he declared he had defeated his brother's mind control. He hasn't had a seizure since. Nor have we encountered the Hood again."

"Do you trust him?" Lou asked frankly.

"Kyrano? With my life. And the lives of my sons," Jeff said immediately.

Lou stood silent for a few seconds, then nodded. "If you trust him, that's good enough for me. I just wanted you to know..."

"I understand." Jeff squeezed her hand once more. He let go to cover a yawn. "This is so much to take in, but that wine is having a decided effect on me."

Lou smiled. "Well, then. Let's shut this down and get some sleep. My watchers might be getting suspicious that they haven't heard much of anything out of us lately."

"Do they know that their devices aren't working?" Jeff asked, as she began to turn off her computer.

"I hope not. I know they're using audio; that's a foregone conclusion. Whether or not they're using vid is a little more dicey. The audio devices will play the music and since they hear that, they should assume things are still working. The vid, which is on a different bandwidth, is fed a pre-recorded loop of me 'puttering' in whatever room I happen to be in. Especially the workshop. In fact, since you were with me, we had to record something that included you. The loop should be long enough to fool them... I hope." Her smile became a wry one. "Sorry if I was boring you with my 'puttering' while I let their cameras record a suitable amount."

"Well, I must admit that hearing about the gutters _was_ getting a mite tedious," Jeff admitted, returning the same smile.

Lou chuckled and picked up her glass of water. She stopped for a moment, then gave him a shrewd look. "Wait. You said _Penelope_ got you the information on Gaat? Whatever happened to 'she's a good friend'?"

"Well, she is. She's also an agent for International Rescue," Jeff admitted.

"Hmm. An agent for IR. Guess she didn't find the life of the idle rich that rewarding after all. She left because she got a better offer," she said, winking at him as she turned off the player. Jeff finished his wine, and together they ducked out of the secret room. The door slid closed behind them. Lou guided Jeff over to the bench once again and reached up to turn off the music that had been playing, and with it, the jammer.

"C'mon. We'd better get some sleep," she said as she led him back upstairs.

He put his wine glass next to hers on the kitchen counter. There was an awkward silence between them.

"Uh, why don't you use the bathroom first?" she offered. "I'll get dressed while you do... whatever it is you have to."

"Sure. Thanks," he replied, looking down.

"Make sure you close your bedroom door," Lou reminded him. "If you don't, you'll have feline company sometime during the night and they tend to take over the bed."

"I'll be sure to shut it," Jeff said softly.

Lou reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "Goodnight, Jeff," she said. Then she turned and went into her room, shutting the door behind her.

"Goodnight, Lou," he murmured, as he headed for the guest room.

xxxx

He was restless. The sounds, the smells, the very darkness of his borrowed room was so different from home that he found he couldn't sleep.

_Are those really the reasons why?_ he asked himself as he sat up in bed. _I've stayed in hotel after hotel and not been affected like this. I thought the wine had mellowed me out so I could sleep. I was wrong._

He lay back down again and put his hands behind his head. _My mind keeps going over everything that Lou told me. The problem is, can I take what she says at face value? She's used to lying and disguising herself and her intentions. I saw that first hand when she was assigned to the case. We arranged for her to be hired on at Tracy Industries back when it was Tracy Aerospace. False background, false papers, false last name. She wormed her way into the good graces of the staff and snooped around. I had to give her a high level of security clearance so she could access emails, even my own! But... she was up front with me. _

He rolled over onto his side and looked at the clock. _When we were alone after hours, discussing the case, she let me know the progress of it, at least as much as she could... oh, damn it! I've got to stop second guessing her. I trusted her back then. Lucille learned to trust her, and she never betrayed that trust in all the years they were friends. I bet that there are secrets that Lucille left with her that I will never, ever hear. _He sat up again and shook his head. _Letting all this run around in my mind isn't working. I need to do something to help me sleep._

Exasperated, he got up to fix himself a glass of warm milk, hoping it would soothe him. Padding out to the kitchen, he had just reached in a cupboard for a glass when he heard a soft moan and a cry of "No!" coming from Lou's bedroom. Concerned, he quietly opened her door, calling, "Lou?"

Light from the kitchen spilled in, and in its glare, he saw her clearly. She had kicked off the covers and lay on her side, clad in smooth, satiny, dark pink pajamas that hugged her every curve. A shapely calf was visible where the pajama pant leg had pulled up. Her nightwear's top bared most of her shoulders except where they were covered by two thin straps. A "V" of lace trimmed the deep cut in the tank top's front, showing the swell of her breasts, full and pale and barely obscured by the silky fabric and lace. She cried out again, turning sharply, her knees jerking upward and her head moving back and forth.

"Lou? Lucinda?" he called again, louder this time. He approached the side of the bed and turned on her nightstand light. "Lucinda? Wake up, Lou! It's only a dream! Wake up!"

"NO!" she shouted as she sat bolt upright, her eyes unseeing, her chest heaving. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking hold of her upper arms and calling her name again. Suddenly, she took in a sharp breath and shook her head, then fixed her slightly glassy gaze on him.

"J-Jeff? What...?"

"You were having a dream, a nightmare," he said soothingly. He was surprised when she suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, breathing heavily. Embracing her gently, he rubbed her back, whispering soothing words in her ear, her hair tickling his nose and chin. "Shh. It's okay. It was only a dream."

They sat like that for a few moments as Lou's panicked breathing gradually eased. She pulled away and gave him a wan, weary smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He was suddenly truly aware of what she was wearing, and his cheeks flamed unaccountably.

"What are you doing up?" she asked, realizing that he was uncomfortable and pulling the covers back over her, holding them to her chest.

"Couldn't sleep. I was going to get a glass of warm milk and I heard you moaning. Thought I'd better investigate."

Lou sighed. "I... I'm glad you did. It was a doozy of a nightmare."

"You want to talk about it?" Jeff offered.

She ran her tongue over her lips, then took in a deep breath, and letting it out slowly, she began to tell him about the dream.

"I dreamt I was going down in the plane again, only this time, I couldn't get out. The plane slowly submerged, and no matter what I tried, I couldn't get the doors or the windows open. I could feel my lungs filling with water as the plane went down and it got darker and darker. And all around were people, my fellow agents, all looking at me and watching, just watching. No one would help."

Jeff reached out and rubbed her arm. "That does sound frightening."

"It was. Thanks again for waking me," she said gratefully.

"Again, you're welcome." Jeff took a moment to look around her room. It revealed a different side of her, a nostalgic side, evidenced by the four poster bed and the quilts hanging over the quilt rack. There was a low book case along one wall, and a rocking chair with a crocheted afghan over the back, a reading lamp positioned just so behind it. The bed itself was covered with a quilt, done in pinks, mauves and dark blues. He didn't know much about quilt patterns or anything; his mother liked to sew, but quilting was not in her repertoire. Still, it gave the room a warm, old-fashioned feel, one that he found comforting. He also noticed the size of the bed he was sitting on.

"I see you sleep in a queen-sized bed," he remarked quietly.

Lucinda nodded. "Always have. I couldn't get used to anything smaller."

He said softly. "Neither could I. It's been seven years and I still sleep on one side of the bed." He dropped his eyes. "Sometimes, when I'm just waking up, I think I feel her in bed with me still. But... I know it's an illusion."

She reached out and cupped his cheek with her hand. "I understand. You loved her very, very much."

"Yes. I did. And I still miss her," he said, putting his hand over hers. He left them there for a moment before taking her hand away from his face.

"I'd better get that glass of milk. Are you going to be all right?" he asked.

"Yes, I should be," she replied. She laid down and slid further down under her covers, pulling them up to her shoulders.

Jeff got up and went to the door. He looked back for a moment. "Goodnight, again," he said as he closed the door behind him quickly, but not so quickly that he didn't hear the soft, "Goodnight," or see the extinguishing of the bedside light.

xxxx

"Do we have an ID on her boyfriend yet?"

"Yeah, and you won't believe it. Jefferson Grant Tracy, billionaire recluse."

"Damn! How did she meet _him_?"

"She handled a case for him over twenty years ago."

A pause.

"Has she said anything?"

"No. And I'm sure she knows she's being watched."

"So, what do we do?"

"We wait."

Another pause.

"We can't wait much longer. The higher-ups are getting... impatient."

"I know."

xxxx

Lou got out of bed a moment or two after Jeff closed the door. Slipping into her warm bathrobe, she waited until he was finished in the kitchen and had padded down the hall. The light over the sink greeted her as she left her room and headed for the basement. She turned on no lights, her memory of the dark recesses of her own home serving her well as she made her way to the workshop.

_I just pray that if they have vid on me, it's not infrared, _she thought as she covered the red light on the workshop's music player with one hand. It glowed red against her palm, then she reached back and switched on the jammer. The tiny bulb turned over to green, and she pulled off her bathrobe, draping it over the player to hide the light. She opened the secret door, and entered the room.

Booting up the computer, she checked to see if the disk she had shown to Jeff was still in the drive. It was. Sitting down at the keyboard, she connected with the Internet. Downloading each of the files she had shown to Jeff, she condensed them into attachments that were as small as possible and sent them shooting off into cyberspace to a secure destination: the same inbox she had used to pick up the email from her friend, Tony. Then she erased the information from her hard drive. She pulled up another document, one she had been preparing especially for International Rescue, condensed that, then sent it off to join the other files. She removed the disk, and stashed it in the same place as she had before.

"I'd better finish my other project," she murmured to herself, opening that secure part of her hard drive. "Tony's little present is ready to be tacked on to what I've already prepared. I hope I don't have to use it, but if I do, I pray it passes muster. Otherwise, all the work I've done will be for nothing." Stretching her arms and yawning, she set about completing what she had started when she came home from Tracy Island.


	16. Jeff versus Spot

_Author's note:_ I had the first part of this written and then things stalled out. I owe a big thanks to Math Girl and to Hobbeth for listening to me and especially for pointing out some potential plot holes that were big enough to drive Lou's truck through. Big thanks to Hobbeth for betareading, and to Math Girl, ArtisticRainey, and Amanda Tracy for their encouragement. Now, on to my reviewers:

**Girl-Detective: **Who can be trusted? Maybe you'll get an answer in this chapter.

**fellowriverrat: **Yes, Jeff is human, and yes, he's still in love with Lucille. He's just rekindled a friendship and, so far, that's all that it is. There would have to be some time pass by and Jeff would have to come to grips with his loss once and for all for there to be any chance of romance with Lou. As for Lou's motives, you may find out a bit more about them in this chapter.

**Math Girl: **I agree, they are a cute couple. A cute couple of friends.

_Disclaimer: _I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any and all original characters, especially the cats, are mine. Abby's Country Kitchen, is, alas, another figment of my imagination.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

Jeff waited in the hall for the bathroom to become available. He had managed to get to sleep after another hour of tossing and turning and he still felt fuzzy headed. _A good shower and some coffee will help that,_ he thought. As he took out his shaving kit, he became aware of the only drawback that Lou's little cottage had: there was only one bathroom. And Lou had gotten up early enough to claim the shower first. 

There was a steamy quality around the door, and a scent that he couldn't quite place oozing out with the steam. Every so often there was a wail from inside, something that would occasionally resolve itself into words. Jeff chuckled as he realized that Lou was singing in the shower. _Boy, now I know why she refused to sing in public, even when the boys begged her to way back when. And even the acoustics of the shower do nothing to help._

Eventually, the shower stopped, and a few minutes after that, the door opened. Lou came out, toweling her hair, wearing jeans and a ribbed v-neck shirt, her feet bare..

"Good morning, Lou," he said with a smile as he edged his way into the still steamy room.

"Good morning, Jeff. I hope you slept better after that warm milk," Lou replied.

"I did. Uh... excuse me but I really have to... uh..." Jeff never did finish his explanation as he ducked into the bathroom and closed the door.

"Towels are on the rack, Jeff," Lou called through the door.

"Okay," Jeff called back.

Lou turned away to leave him to his morning routine. But before she could take two steps toward her bedroom, she heard him call out again.

"Uh, Lou? There's a cat in here. She... he... is sitting on the commode lid."

Lucinda stepped back and spoke directly to the door. "Yes, I know. That's Spot, my bathroom cat."

"And just _why_ do you need a bathroom cat"

Lou grinned. "I don't _need_ one. It's just that she feels most secure in the bathroom."

"Well, I need the commode. What do I do?"

"Just pick her up and put her on the floor."

"All right. Down, Spot! Down!"

Lou leaned up against the wall by the door jamb, trying hard not to laugh, and shaking with the effort. There was clear, loud "mayow", and Lou heard the lid on the commode going up, then Jeff said, "Okay, now she's on the vanity and she's watching me."

A fresh wave of silent laughter shook Lou. "Well, what do you expect? She's curious."

She heard another familiar "mayow", then Jeff's voice came again. "Lou, she's meowing at me. What does she want?"

Lucinda was losing her battle with the laughter; a low chuckle threatened to give her away. She took a deep breath to calm her voice, but her amusement at the situation showed in her tone. "All she wants is some conversation. When she meows at you, just meow back. I do it all the time."

"What _do _you two talk about?" Jeff asked, his tone just a touch sarcastic.

"I have no idea. I don't understand much Cat," Lou replied, her face almost hurting from grinning so widely.

Spot mayowed again, and Lou heard Jeff say, "Sorry, Spot, but I don't speak Cat," in a serious voice. The cat sounded off once more and Lou leaned back, her hand over her mouth now to stifle her laughter as Jeff said, "She's still meowing, Lou."

"Try scratching her between the ears and along the cheeks," Lou suggested.

There was silence for a moment, then Jeff could be heard cooing to the cat. "Oh, you like that, do you?" A few more seconds, then, "You've got a loud purr there, Spot. Hey! Watch out what you're... OW! Lou! She's climbed onto my lap and she's using... OW!... her claws on me!"

"Is she scratching you?" Lou asked, her amusement toning down into concern.

"No! She's just... OW!... flexing her claws and... OW! That smarts!... and pushing on my legs, one paw after another!"

Lou now knew exactly what Jeff was doing in the bathroom, and the vision of Spot kneading on his bare thighs was just too much. The laughter burst forth, and Lou's eyes teared up with the force of it.

"This is _not_ funny, Lou!" Jeff complained. "OW!"

"Oh, Jeff! She's kneading! It shows she likes you! She likes you, Jeff!"

"I'm_ so _glad!" Jeff cried, his sarcasm returning. "But what do I... OW!... do about it?"

"Just pick her up and put her on the floor," Lou leaned back, catching her breath. "Seriously, Jeff! You'd think this was the first time you'd ever had contact with a cat."

"On the farm, we always had _barn_ cats," Jeff huffed from inside the room. "They never came in the house, they never sat in the bathroom, and they _never_ crawled on your bare lap!"

The toilet flushed, and Lou could hear the shower curtain being drawn back. Suddenly, the door opened and Jeff stuck his arm out. Spot was dangling uncomfortably and unceremoniously in his hand. Lucinda grabbed her cat, cuddling her and cooing to her in a soothing voice as Jeff's bare shoulder and red face appeared in the slightly open door.

"Spot has seen enough of me and mine," Jeff said, scowling. "I am not putting up with a kitty voyeur while I shower."

"Ohhh, Jeff," Lou replied, her eyebrows up in amused reproach. "Spot doesn't like the shower! She's not fond of getting wet!"

Jeff glared at her and shook his head. "That doesn't matter. I'd like to shower without having to make conversation."

Lou laughed as he closed the door. "But Jeff, just think what a help she'd be while you're shaving! She could tell you if you missed... a spot!" She continued to laugh as she put Spot down and moved away, while inside the bathroom, Jeff shook his head again. Then he stepped into the shower, pulled the curtain back across, and began to run the water.

When he had finished showering and shaving and was dressed for the day, he went to the kitchen. The kitchen was filled with music, and the small green light was lit on the player. He found Lou feeding her cats, spooning out a small portion of a disgusting smelling paste from a can into four ceramic bowls. The cats wound themselves around her booted ankles or looked up at her expectantly, the four of them meowing in a peculiar harmony until, one by one, they were silenced as they gobbled down their food. Lou turned to Jeff as she headed for the sink to rinse out the can.

He waved a hand at the feeding felines. "I thought that all cats sounded alike," he joked. "Meow. Yours don't."

Lou smiled at him and shook her head. "Now you know better," she replied. "C'mon. There's something important to do downstairs." She led the way to the workshop, where the player was already at work, covering their tracks. She stopped long enough to grab a hammer and open the door to her _sanctum sanctorum. _She pulled the disk from its slot, and handed it to Jeff.

"Put it in the computer," she told him. He was puzzled, but he did as she asked.

"Now, access the disk, and look through the files," she said.

"Why?"

"So that you know for sure that this is _the_ disk, the one with all your information on it." She put a hand on his arm and her eyes pleaded with him for understanding. "Please, Jeff. It's important that you do this."

"Okay." Jeff took her mouse and accessed the disk, scrolling quickly through its contents.

"Are you satisfied that this is the disk I showed you last night?" she asked, her mien serious.

"Yes, I am," he replied, wondering why she would ask such a question.

"Good. Now, last night I downloaded all of these files into two or three zip files, and attached them to emails. I sent them out to a secure site I use as a drop box of sorts."

"When did you do this?" Jeff asked.

"After the nightmare. I got the idea then and figured I'd better take care of it right away. Now, take the disk out," she instructed. Jeff did so, and laid it carefully in her hand. She put the disk on the floor, and to his shock, began to pound on it with the hammer, shattering it into dozens of sharp, shiny pieces.

"What are you doing?" he cried.

"Destroying the evidence," she replied between swings. Finally, the disk was demolished to her liking. She pulled a small plastic bag out of her pocket and began to sweep the remains of the disk into it.

Jeff's eyebrows went up. "Why?"

"Because, Jeff, I want the only copy of this information to be in your hands. No one else's. Not even mine. It's much too damaging for anyone else to have access to it."

"Couldn't I have just taken it with me?"

Lucinda shook her head. "Jeff, we've been watched all the time you've been here. By now they may have put bugs in your plane and in your offices in New York. Your rental car is safe because it was in my garage and no one tripped the alarm out there. There's probably also a tracer on your plane so they can find out where you're going. We'll address that issue before you leave. If by any chance you were found with this disk on you, then they wouldn't have to wonder who was bankrolling International Rescue. They'd know." She sighed. "By destroying the disk, we'll greatly cut back on the possibility of them getting their hands on the information."

Jeff shook his head sadly. "Lou, you were nowhere near this paranoid back when we first met."

She gazed at him wearily. "I know. Working twenty years or more in surveillance has done that to me. I know what can be done, I know how it's done, and as a result, I've been looking over my shoulder a lot, especially since I got this file. I never feel that even the precautions I've taken with the jammers and the alarm system have been enough. This one room is the only place that I feel totally secure in. But I'll be blunt: that paranoia has saved my neck on more than one occasion. You and your family need to be a little more paranoid, in my estimation."

Jeff bristled at her implication. "We've done what we could to protect ourselves."

"There's a lot more you can do," Lou replied, fixing her gaze on him. She indicated the bag with the crumbs of data disk. "This shows you how much more you need to do."

They stared at each other for a long moment, then Jeff sighed. "You're right. We have been lax in the matter of security. Rescuing people came first, and comes first. Our own safety comes second, or perhaps third, after the safety of the Thunderbirds themselves."

"That has to change, Jeff, or whoever is behind this will start gathering the information all over again," Lou said fervently. "And that's the last thing I want to see happen."

"You and me both," Jeff said. "So, what's next on the agenda?"

"What's next?" Lou said, suddenly smiling. "Breakfast out. I have a craving for corned beef hash and I don't have any in the house." She pocketed the shards of the disk and they left the secret room. She placed the hammer back where it belonged, then indicated for him to leave the room while she turned off the music and the jamming device. As she joined him and they went back upstairs, she murmured, "Bring along your PDA." Jeff nodded, and went to the guest room to pull it from his briefcase.

They took the truck again, and Lou took them in the opposite direction as before, following the river for a short space, then losing it entirely as they sped south along the two lane highway.

"You know, I saw one of my Dr. Seuss collections last night in my bedroom bookshelf," Lou said offhandedly. "It made me think of the boys and what they used to have me read to them when I babysat for you and Lucy."

"Oh?" Jeff asked, wondering where this conversation was going.

"Yeah. Let's see. By the time we left, Gordon was beginning to like being read to. Take a guess which Seuss book was his favorite."

"I have no idea. It's been so long since I've even looked at Dr. Seuss," Jeff replied, shaking his head.

"Oh, it's so easy! _One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish,_" Lou said with a mischievous smile. "He'd sit on my lap and listen to me read about the fishes. '_One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish. Old fish, new fish. This one has a little star. This one has a little car. Say, what a lot of fish there are!_' Of course, he'd get antsy once we finished with the fish."

"Sounds like him," Jeff said. "What was Virgil's favorite?"

"Well, he really liked _If I Ran The Zoo_, for reading, but one time, he heard that there was a book called _The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T_. I looked and looked for that thing, and even told Lucy about it so she could look, too. Turned out it wasn't a book, but an original screenplay and it had been turned into a movie musical. I scoured the used film websites and finally came up with a copy. We watched it one night, and it was the weirdest movie I have ever seen! Even weirder than _The Seven Faces of Dr. Lao_! He never asked for it again after that."

Jeff laughed. "I think I remember that one. John had nightmares a couple of times that seemed related to it."

"Oh, I wish I'd known," Lou said, shaking her head. "I was a lot more careful to screen anything that I brought for the boys to watch after that."

"Did John have a favorite?"

"Yes. His was always _Fox In Sox_. He just loved the tongue twisters in it, especially about the tweetle beetles." She began to recite: "When tweetle beetles fight, it's called a tweetle beetle battle. And when they battle in a puddle, it's called a tweetle beetle puddle battle. And... that's as far as I remember."

They laughed. "Getting old, Lou. They say the memory's the first thing to go," Jeff quipped.

She shot him an incredulous look and reached out to smack his upper arm with the back of her hand. "Watch what you say, mister! After all, you're a few years ahead of me. If I'm getting old, you're positively ancient!" she said, amused.

"Okay, okay. No more cracks about getting old... for now," Jeff said with a chuckle. "So, tell me about Scott's favorites. You do realize that I'm taking notes to use as blackmail when I get home."

"I figured you were," Lou replied. "Scott. Hmm. Oh yes! He had two favorites, _Bartholomew and the Oobleck _and _Marvin K. Mooney, Will You Please Go Now_. He was at the point where he could read both books, so I occasionally asked him to read _Marvin K. Mooney _to his brothers."

"Oobleck? What the hell is oobleck?" Jeff asked.

"Let's see. As I recall, it's something that falls from the sky that's not snow, or rain, or sleet. Green gobs of goo, if I remember right," Lou informed him. She looked up. "Ah, here we are." She made a right hand turn into a full and well used parking lot. The sign that they passed as they entered the lot said, "Abby's Country Kitchen".

"This is one of the more popular meat-and-three restaurants around here," Lou explained as they climbed out of the truck.

"Meat and three?" Jeff asked, puzzled.

"Uh-huh. For lunch and dinner, you can choose a meat and three side orders for one price. Very popular family restaurant down south."

The bell over the door chimed as they walked in. A petite middle-aged woman with her highlighted hair pulled back into a French braid came over with two menus. "Hey, Luci! How's it going?" she asked.

"It's going, Margie, it's going," Lou replied. Margie looked Jeff up and down, waiting for an introduction, but when none was forthcoming, she asked cheerfully, "Table for two?"

"Yes, Margie. For two, please," Lou answered.

Margie craned her neck around to see what was available, then beckoned for the pair to follow her. She plunked the menus down at a booth along the inner wall of the dining room. "Here you go. J.J. will be along in a minute to take your orders."

"Thanks, Margie," Lou said. Jeff helped her off with her coat, then slipped out of his own and folded it, laying it beside him on the booth's bench seat. A dark-skinned, college-aged girl in khaki pants and a white polo shirt, wearing a navy blue apron, came up to them.

"Hey, Miz Myles," she said with a smile. She, too, looked Jeff up and down, then turned her attention to Lou, taking out her electronic order pad. "What can I get for you?"

"Hi, J.J. Hmm. A cup of coffee for me. Regular, not decaf," Lou said. "And I'll have two eggs over easy, an order of corned beef hash, a biscuit with jam, and an order of grits on the side. Jeff?"

"Uh, that sounds good to me," Jeff said after a moment's hesitation. "But I'll have my eggs scrambled."

"Gravy for the grits or biscuit?" the waitress asked. Lou shook her head, and Jeff murmured, "No thanks."

"Okay. I'll be back in a moment with your coffee," J.J. said, uploading the order to the kitchen.

"Thanks, J.J.," Lou said.

Jeff leaned over slightly. "How come these people know you so well? It seems that everywhere you go, people call you by name."

"Well, I'm a regular customer here," Lou explained. "The hostesses and wait staff tend to get to know their regulars after a while, especially if the customer makes it a point to be friendly and treats the staff with respect. It's the same no matter where you go on a regular basis, be it the supermarket or the hairdressers."

J.J. came at that moment to bring two coffee mugs, both of which she filled with a fragrant brew. Lou murmured her thanks, and wasted no time adding creamer and sugar to her cup.

"I'm also a fairly regular customer at Vincenzo's, but my relationship there goes a bit beyond just frequenting the restaurant. I helped them track down someone who had copied down their unique pasta recipe and taken it up to some restaurant in Vancouver. It wasn't anything real official, but I was glad to help out, and got to know the family while I was doing it. There weren't any arrests made or anything, but we got an injunction in Vancouver to keep the restaurant there from using the recipe. Eventually, they paid the Giordanos-that's the last name of the family-for the right to make the pasta. It's all about credits and royalties when it comes to intellectual property rights." She smiled at him. "But of course, you know all about that."

"Yes, I do," Jeff replied, returning the smile. "I remember."

Lou rummaged around in her purse and pulled out a small PDA. She opened it up, keyed in a password with her stylus, and slid it over to Jeff.

"What's this about?" he asked, puzzled.

She held out a hand. "Let me see your PDA. I'll put my information into yours and you can put your information into mine. That way, the entry will be correct and we won't get any unwanted calls or emails from someone who happens to overhear."

He pulled his PDA out of the inner pocket of his jacket. "Has that happened to you? Getting unwanted email or phone calls because someone overheard you?" He entered his password and then handed it over to her.

"Hell, yes. I had someone practically stalking me for a bit, back when I was married to Greg. He had overheard me give my email address to somebody and used it to both spam me and to write me some really disgusting pornographic emails. It took a bit, but I tracked him down and stumbled on a case that the FBI was working on. I gave them my evidence and let them go to it. Wasn't in my bailiwick, so to speak." While she was talking, Lou was keying in what she wanted to. Jeff, whose attention had been on her story, now looked down at her mobile memory and pulled up the address book. He found his name already in the list.

"I put an entry in for you already, Jeff," Lou said, glancing up at him. "I don't have any information in it though."

"Okay. I'll fill in the blanks," Jeff said. He opened up the file with his name on it and entered his phone and extension at Tracy Industries' headquarters, his email address for work and at home, and then went down to the Notes section. _I'll leave the home phone number there and she can put it where she wants to, just in case she wants to camouflage it somehow. _But when he scrolled down, he found there was already a message written there, one addressed to him.

_Jeff, wen i giv bak ur PDA there wil B a new ntry. the name is the passwrd 4 the site n addy listd. the files R there 4 u 2 download. Acknowledge msg by deleting._

He read it over twice to make sure he understood it, then deleted the message and put his private phone number in its place. J.J. came up and Jeff saved his entry as the waitress served them their breakfast. Lou looked up and smiled at the waitress, then finished her work with a flourish, and handed his mini computer back to him. He had the sudden urge to see what new entry she has added besides her own, but instead he gave her back her own PDA, then made sure his was turned off and slipped it back into his coat pocket. Lou noticed this as she dropped hers back into her purse without looking at it, and nodded in approval. Then they began to eat.

"You haven't told me what your plans are for the rest of the week," Lou said after sipping her coffee.

"Well, when I leave here, I'm heading for Tallahassee to check on our manufacturing operations and talk to my people there about expansion. Then I'll put in an appearance in Atlanta for the same reason, and to pick up Brains from the conference he's at. Then home again."

"Sounds busy. When do you plan on leaving?" Lou asked. "I'd like to know because I want to take a trip down to Greenville to meet with my inventor friend."

"My plan was to leave the day after tomorrow," Jeff said, kicking himself mentally. He hadn't even thought that Lou might have plans of her own when he came to visit.

"Don't worry, my friend is flexible. I was going to go tomorrow but I can wait," Lou mentioned. "I don't want to seem like I'm kicking you out or anything."

"No, I've imposed on you enough, I think," he replied. "I'll head out to Tallahassee tomorrow."

"Jeff, with friends it's never an imposition," she reminded him. "You're welcome at my place anytime. Now, what do we want to do for the rest of the day? We could take the Parkway again, or visit the Arts Center. The Arboretum is a good bet and not too far. Or we could visit Biltmore and I could show you how the rich are really supposed to live."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Jeff huffed. "I own several homes all around the world, not to mention the island."

"Ah, but compared to the Biltmore Estate, your villa is a cottage," Lou said, grinning. "Or at least that's the impression I got. I never did get to see much of it."

"The Biltmore Estate, huh?" Jeff looked thoughtful. "I think I'll pass. I'd rather see more of the Parkway now that it's sunny and early."

"Sounds like a plan. We'll go south again. It's actually more scenic than going north, at least around here. By going south, you end up in the Great Smokey Mountains." Lou replied. She drained her cup, and signaled J.J. for the check. "My treat this time, Jeff. We can get lunch somewhere along the Parkway or just off of it."

"I'm ready," Jeff said, finishing his last bite of biscuit. Lou paid the bill at the hostess station, leaving a generous tip for J.J. As they left the restaurant, Lou slowed down as they passed one of the outside trash cans. She dipped into her coat pocket and pulled some of the CD shards from the bag, tossing them into the trash can as nonchalantly as she could. Jeff noticed her action but didn't ask about it.

Lou took the driver's seat again, and as she drove them back toward Asheville, Jeff took out his PDA and opened it up to satisfy his curiosity. He scrolled down his rather long list of business acquaintances and five names before Lou's appeared, he saw it: _Mooney, Marvin K. _He opened the entry and found a website address and nothing else. Lou glanced over at him as he shut the address book down and put it back in his pocket.

The Parkway was beautiful. Jeff found that the greens, while still variegated in colors, weren't as distinctive without the damp background. But without the clouds, they could see for miles and make out clearly the mountain ridge across the valley from them. They went higher, diving into the tunnels that cut through the mountains, stopping at various scenic spots. There were more cars on the road today, going in both directions, but for a long time, there was no sign of human habitation.

"Hmm," Lou said. She kept her eyes flicking back and forth between her mirrors and the view out of the windshield.

"Are we being followed?" Jeff asked, not turning around.

"Yes, we are," Lou said softly. "We picked them up when we went past my road. They're about two cars back. They are very good, very professional. When we've stopped, they've gone on by and onto the next stop, then picked us up when we passed."

"Then how do you know they're following us? I mean, they could just be driving along like we are."

Lou kept her voice low. "I know because they always keep two cars behind. If they're farther back than that, they'll pass the other cars to the second spot behind us. Then they won't pass again. I mean, if they wanted to go faster to their destination, they'd pass us, don't you think"

"I suppose so," Jeff said doubtfully. He didn't quite trust Lou's newly revealed paranoia.

"Let's pull over at this next site. There's a trail we can follow for a bit. If they keep to their pattern, they'll pass us by and continue on up to catch us farther along. It should give us some time to talk in relative peace and privacy."

"That sounds like a plan. I'd like to stretch my legs."

The scenic spot came up on the right, and Lou pulled in. She kept an eye on the car she suspected of following them and when it passed by, she smiled. "Come on."

They got out of the truck and Lou locked it securely, pocketing the keys. Ducking into the trees that surrounded the parking lot, Lou brought Jeff to a wooden sign that had the colored dots of several trails marked on it and the difficulty of each one next to the name of the trail. She pointed to a white dot. "This trail isn't too bad even when it's damp, as it will be after yesterday's rain."

"I think I can handle it," Jeff said. "After you."

Lou grinned, then led him to the portion of the trail that edged into that scenic area. There was a bit of a hill to begin with and the damp leaves were slippery under their feet. But they made it to the top and kept going along the relatively wide trail, walking slowly and in step.

"So," Lou began. "Tell me more about Penelope. I know you said she was a good friend and what else she did for your family, but that picture told me there was more to it than that."

Jeff snorted a laugh. "It_ is _a big picture, isn't it? You'd be surprised how many visitors assume she's my wife. Not that I have a lot of visitors or anything. I live where I do to keep out of the public eye, after all. And... I don't think that Penelope would be disappointed to be thought of as my wife. She's made it clear to me that a romantic relationship would be more than welcome."

"And what's holding you back from that?" Lou asked, fixing her gaze on his face.

Jeff sighed. "Her age, for one thing. She's a few months younger than Scott. Most men my age would be thrilled to have a woman as young and beautiful as she is interested in them. But I can't get past the fact that she's young enough to be my daughter." He looked down at the trail for a moment, then ahead of him. "Then... there's Lucy..."

"I know. Deep down in your heart of hearts you're still married to her, aren't you?" Lou said softly.

Jeff nodded. "Yes. I guess I am." He glanced over at her. "What is it like for you? Do you still feel things for Greg even though you're divorced"

Lou thought for a moment, then shook her head. "No, I don't. I think that the difference between you and me is that in my case it was the marriage that died, and not the people. In your case, Lucy died, but the marriage didn't." She took in a deep breath and let it out. "I miss her, too, you know. She was a great friend, one of my best. I could tell her almost anything and she just listened. Gave me advice now and then, reamed me out on a couple of occasions, too. I haven't had a friend like her since."

They walked along in silence for a few minutes, both with hands in pockets, engulfed by their own thoughts. At last, Jeff took a deep breath and let it out with an audible, "Ahhhh." He smiled as Lou looked over at him to see what the noise was about.

"This feels so good, just walking in the woods with a friend, talking. I never realized how much I missed it. Ever since Lucy died, I've immersed myself in my work and forgotten that there was life out beyond the bounds of the island. Even when I would go to England to visit Penelope, or the one time she took me to her ranch in Bongo-Bongo, I couldn't leave work behind. It felt so strange to not be supervising something, or working on a plan, or a project, or overseeing one of my sons'... ahem... excursions." He glanced at her to see if she had understood his deeper meaning. She winked at him, telling him she had. "I've made a lot of sacrifices for my dream, and asked my sons to do the same. I know they miss this kind of thing, too."

"I'm sure they do, Jeff," Lou said. "But your cause is worth sacrificing for, and I'm sure that they wouldn't be involved if they weren't aware of what they'd have to give up."

"Still, now that I've had this reminder that there's life outside the island, life outside my work and dream, I feel like I need to offer them the chance to have it, too. And I'm not talking about a week at corporate headquarters either," Jeff said wryly. "They should have time to pursue what interests them, to reconnect with old friends like I have with you." He looked down again. "Problem is, we're short-handed if someone is away from the island. And there's always the likelihood that they'll decide they don't want to make the sacrifice anymore. I'm always afraid that will happen."

"Do you really run your whole operation with just your boys, Tin-Tin, and Brains?" Lou asked, incredulous.

Jeff nodded. "I didn't want to go outside the family with this. I did, in a way, when I set up the agents' network, but most of those are handpicked people who I've either known personally or known about for years. People I felt I could trust." He shook his head. "Maybe, in a way, I'm as paranoid as you are."

Lou chuckled. "I doubt that very much, Jeff. I've got at least ten years more experience at paranoia than you do. But it's time you thought more about the security of your family and your... creations. Especially since they are all you have." She became very serious. "I trust that you don't go out on those excursions yourself."

"I wanted to, not long ago. I even tried to, but I was convinced, quite emphatically, that I wasn't cut out for it," Jeff said sadly, rubbing his arm absently.

Lou stopped walking and put her hand on his arm. "I'm glad. You are far too recognizable to go out with your sons. It's the reason why I didn't introduce you to the people at Abby's. You'd be surprised how much someone like Margie knows about celebrities. You, sir, fall into that infamous category." She slid her arm under his elbow, linking them together as they resumed their walk. "And I'd hate to see you get hurt. Hell, I'd hate to see any of you get hurt. But I suppose that going on those excursions of yours means making the sacrifice of bodily safety."

"Yes. It does. I'll probably have to talk to Brains about more actual safety measures. He's worked out just about everything so that one or two people can do the job, but my boys have come home bruised and battered more times than I can count."

Lou lowered her voice. "One of the files I sent on to you is a recommendation on security measures for your personnel. Most of them are very low tech. The problem will be security for the equipment. I'd like to throw the problem at my inventor friend, naming no names, of course. May I do that?"

"Let me put Brains on it first, Lou," Jeff said, frowning. "If he has trouble coming up with what we need, then maybe I'll have him get in touch with your inventor friend." _After I have Penelope check her out._

"Good enough," Lou said. She looked at her watch. "I think we'd better head back. By now, our tail must have figured out that we had stopped for longer than usual and would be coming down to try and pick up our trail again. I'd like to be on the move before they can get here."

"Okay. My legs have been stretched enough."

They turned back, talking about more general things as they walked. Before they came to the place where they had picked up the path, Lou indicated spot to their left. "This will take us back to the parking lot but on the opposite end and near a trash can. I'd like to get rid of some this," she indicated the bag of plastic bits, "before we go on."

"Fine with me," Jeff said. "Why have you been doing that anyway?"

"There was a case in the office once where a crucial piece of evidence was on a vid disk. The suspect shattered the disk into several pieces, but left them all in one trash can. The detectives involved were able to pick the pieces up and pretty much reconstruct the evidence. Now, I've chopped this up into smaller portions, and ground parts of it to grit, but I am taking no chances. It's not going to be worth their while to try and put this together, especially if they don't know where all the pieces are." She shrugged and smiled wryly. "It's that old paranoia surfacing again."

Jeff chuckled as they took the side path and came out onto the parking lot. Lou dumped roughly another third of the shattered disk into the battered trash can, letting it sift down through the abandoned drink cups, used tissues, and old newspapers. Then they sauntered over to Lou's truck, got in, and left the area, leaving behind three or four other cars, one of which was occupied.

The woman in the driver's seat watched as the truck pulled out and headed farther up into the mountains. The man took out a satellite phone and spoke into it. "They're heading your way. Just follow and report." Then he turned to his companion. "We could have taken them. I don't think she's armed."

She shook her head. "Not with him around. He's too big a fish. The locals would be all over us in a heartbeat. We wait until he's gone."

"But our superiors..."

"Our superiors will have to suck up and take it. I'm not doing anything when one of the world's richest and most powerful men is staying at her house." She started the car and headed back down the mountain. "While they're gone, however, we can spend a little time trying to figure out that alarm system of hers. The sheriff's department showed up entirely too quickly for my liking when we searched her house the first time."


	17. A rescue without Jeff

_Author's note:_ In this chapter, I felt compelled to bring out the boys and have them do what they do best: rescue people. After all, that is what International Rescue is all about, right? But finding the perfect rescue was difficult and I owe a huge thanks to Math Girl for letting me bounce ideas off of her and for mentioning the planned bridge over the Straits of Messina as a possible venue. All information on the bridge came from http:(slash, slash)strettodimessina(DOT!)it.

The ocean liner, _President_, comes from a comic book story entitled "Revolution". It was reprinted in _Thunderbirds: The Comic_, issue number11, March 7-March 20, 1992, pp. 20-23; issue number 12, March 24-April 3, 1992, pp. 20-23; and issue number 13, April 4-April 17, 1992, pp. 8-10, 15-17. Published by Fleetway Editions, Ltd., London.

Big thanks to Hobbeth for betareading, and to Math Girl, ArtisticRainey, and Amanda Tracy for their encouragement. Now, on to my reviewers:

**fellowriverrat: **So sorry to make you cough so much with that shower scene. It's so cat-like because Spot's real-life counterpart does that to me sometimes in the bathroom. Jeff and Lou share a rich friendship, yes, but I think Lucille and Lou had a deeper one, simply because they were women. Thank you for your kind words about how I write IR and how I handled the "Penny thing". Re: Lou's motives. I think you'll find them up in the air again at the end of this chapter.

**Bluegrass: **Welcome to the story. Thank you for you kind words regarding my descriptions and the cat-like nature of Lou's kitties. As you've already found out, I'm drawing from real life here. As for Lou's paranoia, you bring up an excellent point, one that I hope to tackle in future chapters.

**Girl-Detective: **Got all the players straight now? Good, because I'm adding a couple in this new chapter. They shouldn't be around a whole lot though. The whole "comparing Jeff's villa to Biltmore" is something I've had in mind ever since I saw Graham Bleathman's lovely rendering of the floor plan of the Tracy Villa. It's a beautiful drawing, and very detailed; unfortunately he put all the Tracy men's bedrooms along one side of the house and put the bathrooms downstairs so that the men have to cross in front of Grandma and Tin-Tin's rooms to get to the showers! I think that if a late 19th century multi-millionaire can have more bathrooms than bedrooms in his house, so can a 21st century multi-billionaire. :D

_Disclaimer: _I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any and all original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

They drove until they reached Balsam Gap and ate a late lunch in the town of Balsam. As they left the restaurant, Lou asked, "Do we take the highway back? Or the Parkway? Your choice." 

"Hmm. How about the Parkway on the way back. too? See the vistas from a different angle. But, if you don't mind, I'd like to drive. I know you were up late and you've been driving all day," Jeff said.

Lou smiled. "Thank you, Jeff! That's such a generous offer. I think I'll take you up on it." She tossed him her keys, saying, "Go ahead and start it up while I use the ladies' room. There aren't too many places along the Parkway to use the facilities."

Jeff chuckled and went out to the truck. After adjusting the seat to accommodate his longer legs, he started it up. While he waited, he flipped through Lou's music collection, found something he liked, and slipped it into the player. _I wonder if she's got the same deal in here as she has in her house with the jammer and all? I'll have to ask._

At that point, Lou hopped into the truck. Just before she fastened her seat belt, she took the plastic bag out of her pocket and showed it to him. It was empty.

"Ah!" Jeff exclaimed, nodding and grinning at her. He backed carefully out of the parking space; he wasn't used to such a large vehicle. When he rented cars, they were almost always expensive sports cars or luxury sedans, cars that screamed out his wealth and position, which were intimidation enough. To him, it felt odd to sit seemingly high above the rest of the traffic. He looked out the rear mirror and the side ones, trying to spot a tail.

"Is your player in your truck like the ones at your house?" Jeff asked.

Lou, who had been resting her head against the back of her seat, seemingly relaxed for once, said, "No. Too much work to remove the player." She said nothing more than that on the subject and Jeff got the impression that she felt her truck was bugged, too.

They drove in silence for a while, Lou watching out the window at the scenic view. Finally, Jeff spoke up. "So, you're going to South Carolina tomorrow?"

"Yes. My friend will put me up for the night then I'll come back early the next day."

"How will your cats survive without you?" he asked.

Lou chuckled. "Oh, they'll be fine. They can live without me for a day. There's plenty of cat kibble, and I'll change the litter in the boxes before I go. They're all indoor cats so there's no chance that they'll get lost or anything. Midnight and Moofums will be snarky for a bit when I return; kind of a 'you abandoned us so we're going to let you feel our displeasure' sort of thing, but Snowball and Spot will be happy to see me."

"So, you'll discuss what you're beta-testing for her..."

"Yeah, we'll talk about the tech, then I'll take the family out for dinner and spoil her kids with a trip to the bookstore or the mall. Give her and her husband some time alone, which is spoiling them as well."

"Aunt Lucinda, again?" he asked.

"Oh yeah. One of the many families whose children call me 'Aunt'," Lou said, smiling. She turned to Jeff. "You should see my Christmas list!" Lou looked down at her hands and her voice got soft and sad. "Unfortunately, I couldn't spoil your boys at Christmas like I do now with my other honorary nieces and nephews. Greg wouldn't let me. He wanted us to save money for our own children. What funds we did save went into the adoption attempt. It was only when we divorced that I was able to do what I wanted to with my money. By that time nearly all your boys were grown. Only Alan was still a teenager. And he didn't know me." She sighed. "I wish I could have done for them what I've done for my other friends. Especially since they were Lucy's kids. And yours, of course."

Jeff reached over and squeezed her hand. "My boys were spoiled enough by us and by my parents while they were growing up, especially once the business got off the ground. And I still spoil them, or at least try to. It gets harder every year. I mean, what do you get for the sons of the man who has everything?"

Lou chuckled. "Your boys spoiled? Couldn't prove it by me. Like I said before, you and Lucy did a wonderful job with them."

"Well... thank you, Lou," Jeff said. He glanced at her. "Y'know, I don't think I ever returned John's call. Do you mind if we stop at the next scenic overlook so I can do that? I brought my satellite phone with me. I just have to figure out what time it is over there..."

"Go ahead," Lou replied.

They pulled over about a half-mile down the road at a scenic overlook that gave them a vista of the mountains, lit by the late afternoon sun. The sky was beginning to change color as the sun started its descent into the west, and what few high cirrus clouds there were looked like wavy, buttery smears against the aquamarine of the sky. Lou leaned up against the grille of her truck while Jeff paced up and down waiting for his call to connect. He had figured out that it was roughly ten-thirty the next morning at Tracy Island and a good time to call.

"Hi, Dad," Scott said hurriedly. "This isn't a good time to call, I'm afraid."

"Hello to you, too, Scott," Jeff said wryly. "What's the problem?"

"Uh... the boys are out on _family business,_" Scott told him.

Jeff picked up on his son's stress on the last two words. "Okay, son. I understand. Where are they?"

"Italy," Scott answered. "I need to get back..."

"Say no more, Scott. I'll leave you to it and we'll talk later. Goodbye." Jeff hung up without waiting for an answer. He returned to Lou's truck. "The boys are out on an... excursion," Jeff explained in a low voice.

Lou's eyebrows went up. "Really? Where?"

"Italy." Jeff hurried around to the driver's side of the truck. "Let's get back to your place quickly. I want to see the news."

"Right," Lou said smartly as she hopped in on the passenger side.

Jeff pulled out quickly, nearly hitting a car that was entering the scenic lookout as he did. Ignoring the indignant honking behind him, he stopped for a split second at the view point's entrance, then roared out onto the Parkway. Lou held on for dear life.

"You do realize that it's mostly all downhill from here, don't you?" she called to Jeff, who just smiled deviously as he kept his eyes focused on the road ahead.

xxxx

"Well!" a shaken Lou complained as she got out of her truck. "That took a year off my life! Where'd you learn to drive anyway? We were lucky that we didn't get stopped by the state police!"

Jeff muttered something about "overly cautious women" and "back seat drivers" as he slammed the truck door shut. "Here, catch," he said sullenly as he tossed Lou's keys to her.

"Well, as a driver, you make a great jet pilot!" she retorted as she fielded the keys. "Wait up. I need to get Oscar out of here."

"Oscar? Who the hell is Oscar"? Jeff called, stopping halfway from the drive to the porch.

"Not who. What." Lou reached under the passenger seat and pulled out a locked metal box. "Oscar is my handgun."

"Your gun? Oscar? You named your gun Oscar?" Jeff asked, incredulous. "Why not name it Sure Shot, or Tex, or something else that's more... appropriate? Something more manly?"

Lou joined Jeff on the walk and the two of them climbed the porch steps together. She used her remote to unlock the front door, then, as they stepped inside, she put her palm up to the alarm to disarm it.

"Oscar is a perfectly good name and I have a very good reason for naming this gun that way," Lou said as she put the box on the upper shelf of her hall closet. Jeff helped her off with her jacket, then took off his own and hung it up next to hers. "I named the gun for my first weapons instructor, Oscar Goldman."

Jeff shook his head. "I still think Oscar is a wimpy name for a gun. Makes me think of wieners." He turned and strode into the living room. Picking up the remote, he turned on the televid. Lou tapped him on the arm and put up a finger, mouthing the word, "Wait." Going over to her sound system, she pushed the button on the side, and shook her head, grimacing as the tiny light turned red. Reaching in back, she flipped the switch and waited until the light turned green. Then she turned to Jeff, who had been channel surfing while he waited for the go ahead. She returned to him and said quietly, "Go find the news. I'll brew us some coffee." Jeff nodded and made himself comfortable, turning to the 24-hour news station to see if there was a story about his boys.

He settled on the channel just in time to hear the anchor say, "...update on the latest from Messina. Go ahead, Maria." The image switched from the well-dressed man in the anchor room to a picture of a young woman, wearing a yellow rain slicker and covered by a wide umbrella. It was obviously night in Italy, and the wind rippled the umbrella's fabric as rain splattered down, a drop or two occasionally making it past the hood that protected the camera lens from the worst of the weather. Jeff sat down on the edge of Lou's sofa to hear what the reporter had to say.

"Earlier this evening, two of the engineering marvels of the 21st century collided with catastrophic results. The world's largest ocean liner, the_ President_, collided with the world's longest suspension bridge, the one that spans the straight of Messina, connecting mainland Italy with Sicily. This accident was caused by a strong storm with rough seas and strong winds that twisted and slammed the bridge's main suspension portion into the top of the _President_, smashing the roadway and spilling cars onto the deck of the ship. The monorail that runs along the center of the bridge has broken near the point of impact, leaving the two monorail trains without power and making it nigh impossible for the passengers to get off and make it back to land safely. A call went out to International Rescue as it became apparent that the situation was beyond that of the local rescue units. I understand that they are now on the scene."

Jeff wished for once that his prohibition on picture taking was being violated. _I wish I could see what was going on out there. But then again, the bridge is two and a half miles long, and the Danger Zone would be over a mile away. Too far for the cameras to pick up, even without the darkness and the storm. _He sighed. _Fat lot of good it does anyway if that disk of Lou's is to be believed. Long range vid, sketches, too much information is being collected that can pinpoint us to our enemies._

He looked up as Lou came back into the living room, carrying two mugs of steaming coffee. She handed them both to Jeff, then sat down beside him and reclaimed her cup. "Any news?" she asked.

"Not much. The _President_ collided with the bridge over the Straits of Messina. The monorail is without power and the bridge itself is twisted at the point of collision," Jeff explained. "I wonder how the boys are going to handle this one?"

xxxx

In Sicily, John was wondering the same thing. He had taken Thunderbird One out to assess the damage and now Virgil, in Thunderbird Two, was on the scene and consulting with him. The Penelon awning that kept Mobile Control dry was virtually worthless in the stinging, windy rain, and John was tempted to pack it in and fly out to the site and manage the rescue from there. _I bet I could even set down on the **President**; they're bound to have a helijet pad._

"What's the plan, John?" Virgil asked. He, Gordon, and Tin-Tin had all been pressed into service since Jeff and Brains were not available.

"Okay. Step one: get those monorail cars off the bridge. That will give us a clear path for the recovery vehicles. There are several cars that have slid to the edge of the bridge and will have to be pulled up onto the monorail track, or even to the other set of lanes before they fall. Then we can get to the cars that are smashed up against the sides. Fortunately the sides of the bridge have held, for the most part, and the ship is caught on the access road that runs beside and at a lower level than the main part of the bridge. I am told by Alan, who has been in touch with the _President_, that seven cars have spilled onto the ship itself, and that one has gone into the water." He sighed. "Attempts have been made to find the car, but it's been given up as pretty much hopeless. If we'd had Thunderbird Four... we might have succeeded where others have failed. But we don't have her along."

Tin-Tin interrupted. "John, wouldn't it be safer to first pull the bridge off of the _President_? It would remove the danger of other cars falling off the roadway and possibly killing people on the ship."

The Tracys looked at each other. Tin-Tin didn't go out on rescues too often, but the Tracys respected her engineering background, and knew that if she made a comment like that, they should take it seriously.

"How would you do it?" Gordon asked.

"Attach cables from Thunderbird Two's winches to the supports on the bridge on that side and have Two pull up while the _President_ pulls back. Then Two should support the bridge while we get the monorail trains off and evacuate the cars."

"Who would fasten the cables?" John asked.

Tin-Tin sighed. "Gordon and I. Virgil would be needed to fly Thunderbird Two."

"So, we'd wait until the bridge was stable to get the monorail off?" Gordon asked.

Tin-Tin nodded. Scott, who had been listening to the talkback, commented, "Virge? Remember when we did something of the sort on the _President_ in the Nicaragua Canal? We had to use both One and Two to pull the ship free from where it was jammed. I think that adding the power of One's engines to Two's will give us more time to get those cars evacuated."

Virgil nodded. "I remember. It took all we had to do it, but we managed."

The rescuers looked at each other again. "Okay," John said. "Tin-Tin, get the Monobrake out of the pod. Gordon, set up the pod winch for several lines with closed channel hooks. Virgil, you set up the forward winch for the same and make sure all the winches are on remote control. Then, pick up the pod, and head out over the bridge. Gordon, meet up with Tin-Tin, and go with her to the worst spot on the bridge. I expect you to take every precaution! Hard hats, harnesses, tethers, the works. Do the hooks one at a time so you can spot each other. I'll pack up Mobile Control and join you out on the bridge. Alan, I need schematics of that bridge! Then get in touch with the _President _and tell them what we're going to do. And alert the authorities on both sides of the bridge. We may need them to help evacuate the cars. And be careful! This storm has winds over 40 miles per hour, gusting to as high as 60 mph."

Virgil looked John in the eye. "We'll be careful. Okay, Gordon, Tin-Tin, let's go!"

"F-A-B," Tin-Tin replied, nodding her head, and the three ran off to carry out John's orders.

_Man, I wish Scott were here,_ John moaned internally, and not for the first time that night. He sighed, and began to break down Mobile Control.

_Man, I wish Dad were here, _Scott sighed within himself. _I hate being so far from the action. _He turned toward Alan's portrait. "Alan, an update?"

"The weather is deteriorating, Scott, and wind speed has increased," Alan reported. "So far, the _President_ reports twelve fatalities, mostly from the cars that fell, though a couple of people were killed from the cars falling on them. Another twenty injured, seven of them critically. I'm trying to coordinate with the Italian and Sicilian authorities for medical helijet pick up."

"F-A-B, Alan. Keep up the good work." Scott turned to the portrait of John, sitting where Scott usually sat, in the cockpit of Thunderbird One. "What's your status, John?"

"Tin-Tin and Gordon have fixed three of Thunderbird Two's winch cables to the supports on the affected side of the bridge," John replied. "One more to go from Thunderbird Two and then one from here, and we'll start pulling."

"Is Gordon okay? That slip was pretty hairy," Scott remarked.

"Yes, he's okay, or says he is," John said, frowning. They were referring to an incident that happened when Gordon was below the bridge and climbing one of the underside supports. The supports were actually dry but the wind was coming nearly straight on and was forced downward by the tilting deck. As a result, a strong gust blew Gordon off his perch. Fortunately, he was tethered to the rails of the bridge and between the tether and Tin-Tin's quick thinking, he was pulled to the relative safety of the bridge's surface. But from then on, Tin-Tin went under the bridge to fasten the hooks and Gordon, bruised and battered, kept an eye on her.

"Monobrake crew to Thunderbird One," Gordon said, shouting to be heard above the wind. Tin-Tin leaned up against the small access road, breathing heavily. "Thunderbird Two is attached. We're ready for you."

"F-A-B, Monobrake. Releasing cable now." A flick of a switch and a heavy-duty cahelium cable snaked down through the night sky, showing up in glow of Thunderbird One's underside light. John maneuvered it closer, lowering slowly until at last Gordon could reach out and snag it. The duo had already reached their target, another of the bridges underlying supports thirty meters away from the last one. Tin-Tin took the hook from Gordon, who checked her tether and harness one last time.

"Last one, Tin-Tin!" Gordon said in encouragement. Tin-Tin smiled wearily, and, securing the hook to her belt, began to climb beneath the bridge once again.

xxxx

Jeff fidgeted. He stood up and paced, sipping his coffee. The news blathered on about the specifications of the bridge, built in 2014, and the statistics of the _President_, including its mishap in the Nicaragua canal and its first encounter with International Rescue. Finally, Maria returned. The wind seemed to be stronger now and the rain was pelting down, and Maria shouted into her microphone.

"I understand that International Rescue is ready to lift the bridge and stabilize it, releasing the _President_ and allowing rescue officials from both sides of the bridge to evacuate any cars that are still occupied." She put a hand to her ear. "We have a report from Xavier, on board the _President_."

Jeff sat down at the edge of the sofa, putting his coffee down on the table beside him. Lou sat up, too, draining her cup and setting it down on the floor.

The scene shifted, and a tall young man with strikingly blond hair stood before a camera, dressed much as Maria had been. "We're here on the _President_, where in just a moment, on orders from International Rescue, Captain Thomas will put the ship in reverse. As you can see from the running lights," here the picture changed as the cameraman turned and aimed his lens upward, "two of the mighty Thunderbird craft are poised above the bridge...sssttt...to pull... crackle..." The picture began to break up, along with the sound.

"Good thinking," Jeff murmured. He turned to Lou. "They must have hit the camera fogger. It disrupted the transmission."

The picture returned to Maria. "I'm sorry, but we seem to have lost Xavier's transmission. As you could see, the Thunderbirds were ready to lift the bridge... I have a report from Xavier that they have done so. The _President_ is now free of the bridge and is headed out of the Straits of Messina to a wharf facility. The authorities on the Sicilian side of the bridge tell us that International Rescue is towing the stalled monorail nearest that side back to the shore and plans are for the monorail on the Messina side of the bridge to be towed back to its starting point as well. Back to you, Phil."

"See, our security works," Jeff said as he muted the televid. Lou didn't answer right away, she kept her eyes on the screen. She nudged him and he looked back to see a still shot from the footage that Xavier's cameraman had taken. The underside of Thunderbird Two was clearly seen, but the bright spotlight under Thunderbird One partially obscured its form. Only the very tips of the craft were visible.

"It works... but not fast enough," Lou said softly. "This picture will be picked up by every news organization around the world, enhanced so that more and more of the crafts will be visible. And I'm sure there were people on the ship snapping away with regular film or, having heard about the anti-photo devices, pulling out sketch books and using their eyes and hands to capture the scene. Even in the dark. Even at the expense of their own safety." She turned to him. "It looks like whichever of your boys were there, they were all kept busy and away from the crowds... this time." She glanced over at the stereo player. The little light was still green.

"Hmm. Looks like it's time for some supper. I've got the makings of enchiladas available. You keep watching. I'll be back once they're baking." Lou stood, briefly squeezed his shoulder, then walked out of the living room. Jeff watched her go, then turned back to the televid, his eyes focusing on the picture, but his mind dwelling heavily on what she had to say.

xxxx

Gordon and Tin-Tin all but fell into their seats on Thunderbird Two. It had taken hours, but the authorities finally gave them the all-clear. All of the cars that remained on the bridge had been evacuated. John had offered the services of the Monobrake so that tothe authorities could use the now-empty monorail cars to transport victims to the Italian side, where ambulances and paramedics waited. This had meant many trips back and forth with the Monobrake as the cargo carrier and the rocket plane continued to hold up that edge of the bridge. Morning was breaking over the scene when the two Thunderbirds were finally able to cast away their cables and end the nerve wracking job of just holding position. Virgil had released the pod on the Sicilian side of the bridge to pick up the Monobrake and its operators, and now they were ready to head for home.

Virgil said nothing as he lifted off. He was tired, as tired as Gordon and Tin-Tin, and hoped that there were no rescue calls until he had gotten at least twelve solid hours of sleep under his belt. He wished that Brains were back at base to see to the injuries that Gordon had sustained as a result of his slip. If they proved to be too painful or debilitating, they would have to rely on the doctor that made the rounds of the small, inhabited islands in their vicinity; a portly, balding man who tended to ask embarrassing questions.

"Gordon?"

"Yeah, Virge?"

"Why don't you get some sleep in the crew's quarters?"

Gordon turned the idea over in his mind, then got up painfully. "Don't mind if I do. Wake me when you need me."

"F-A-B," Virgil replied, though he had no intention of "needing" his brother on the way back home. Behind him, Tin-Tin smiled and rested her head back against the seat, closing her eyes.

"Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One," John's weary voice came over the airwaves.

"This is Thunderbird Two. Go ahead," Virgil replied.

"Stand down from emergency, 0642, local time," John stated. "I'll pace you on the way back, Virgil."

"F-A-B, and thanks." Virgil was in no mood to argue. He sighed, then turned his craft to the east and together, the two Thunderbirds flew towards the rising sun.

xxxx

The enchiladas were made with chicken, and were served hot, in more ways than one. The white wine that Lou paired with them came from the cellars of the Biltmore winery and Jeff appreciated the quality as he cooled the spices in his mouth with the drink. The conversation turned to family; Lou wanting to know more about what Jeff's sons had been up to in the years since Lucille's death, and Jeff wanting to hear more about Lou's sister and parents.

"Alan was at Colorado University for a while," Jeff explained, scooping up a mouthful of Spanish rice. "He wasn't a good student, I'm afraid. Spent more time out at Parola Sans than he did in class. Until the day that he built a rocket for one of his science courses. He actually got it off the ground but, in the process, broke every window on campus! I still haven't figured out just how he managed it."

Lou chuckled. "So what happened then?"

"I pulled him from school and enrolled him at Tracy College in their commercial astronaut program. Figured if he was so interested in rockets, he should learn to fly them." A sip of wine, then Jeff asked, "How are your parents? I remember meeting them one weekend when you and Greg still lived in Kansas."

She paused a bit and her face took on a melancholy look. "Mom died five years ago of advanced cervical cancer. She hated doctors so much that she didn't have the usual diagnostic screenings and by the time anyone knew something was really wrong, it had already spread to her lymph nodes. She didn't want to spend her last days 'bald and barfing' as she called it, so she refused treatment. I was lucky; I made it home from overseas to say goodbye. Though it wouldn't have mattered much; she was so doped up with pain meds that she didn't know anyone." She sighed. "A year or so later, Dad began to show signs of Alzheimer's. He's in a nursing home in Kennebunkport now. Shelly makes sure that he's well cared for. Her kids think I'm selfish for not dropping everything and moving to Maine to help with Dad. Maybe now that I'm retired I can go up and give Shelly and Chuck some time off from Dad's care. It might be too little too late, but I can try."

"Hmm. I guess I'm blessed, aren't I?" Jeff said softly. "My mother is still sharp of mind and spry of body. Though this last illness did concern me. I don't think I've ever seen her that sick before."

"You mother is a feisty old woman who will probably live long enough to give her great-grandchildren grief," Lou said with a smile. "As much as she dislikes me, I still respect her and always will."

"Just wish I knew where she got that bee in her bonnet about the two of us," Jeff said, finishing up his enchilada. "Perhaps I'll ask when I get back home." He looked at his watch. "I think I might turn in early tonight. Get some extra shut-eye before I leave in the morning."

"Sure. I've still got some chores to do before I go to bed," Lou replied.

"Well, I'll leave you to it. I want to check the news one more time," Jeff explained, rising from the table. "Thank you for the enchiladas. They were delicious. And I'll have to order some of that wine."

"You're welcome," she said, picking up his dishes and hers. "I'll come in when I'm finished to say goodnight."

Jeff nodded, and padded off down the hall, stretching as he headed for the living room. Lou rinsed the dishes, loading them into the autowasher, and putting the leftovers away in the cryofridge for later consumption. She let the cats out of the screened in porch and fed them, watching them gobble up their canned paste like starving lions. Then she ducked into her room. Slipped between her Dr. Seuss omnibus and her collector's edition of _The Hobbit_, was a slim, clear case with a familiar looking disk inside. She slipped it into a clear zipper bag, then brought it out to the porch with her, setting it on the cats' perch as she donned rubber gloves, and hauled out a big bag of cat litter.

_Time to change the litter boxes,_ she thought, smiling wryly as she began the odious chore.


	18. Assault on Lou's

_Author's note:_ In this chapter, I had three different ways to take the plot. It took a while to decide on one and I owe a huge thanks to Math Girl and FrankieC for letting me bounce ideas off of them. A quick note on _truth serum_. It's a barbituate that merely lowers inhibitions and doesn't really force anyone to tell the truth.

Big thanks to Hobbeth for betareading, and to Math Girl, ArtisticRainey, and Amanda Tracy for their encouragement. Now, on to my reviewers:

**Math Girl: **Glad you liked the rescue. Keeping the organization secure would be difficult in this day and age; imagine what it would be like in the latter half of the 21st century. We'll get back to the boys, and Gordon's condition, next chapter.

**Girl-Detective: **Very typical of him, indeed. But at least he's not calling to chew Scott out for what he did or didn't do this time. Glad you liked "Oscar". Don't know why, but the name popped into my head and the reason behind it came later.

**Opal Girl: **I'm glad you came back to the story. Thank you for your kind words about it. It's probably been hard for Jeff to have a life outside the island, for a number of reasons. And I've always thought that whoever piloted Thunderbird One took over at Mobile Control, as Alan did in "Atlantic Inferno". Rescues are what International Rescue is all about, so you can be sure that my stories, at least the ones that last this long, will have rescues in them.

**FrankieC:** Thanks for the compliments on the rescue. You're right, of course. Rescues don't stop just because Jeff (or Scott, or Virgil, or any of the IR personnel) isn't there.

**Mad Friend: **Wow! Such praise! I'm glad you found it an engrossing read, and that you are enjoying my characterization of Jeff. As for seeing the rest of it, it is a work in progress and it moves along at the pace my muses have set for it. Things may slow down a bit here as I've contracted an infection in my foot and it's made me pretty miserable. But I'll do my best to get later chapters up soon. The problem is that, the farther I get into this story, the more little bits I think of for it!

_Disclaimer: _I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any and all original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

Jeff's good intentions of an early bedtime were forgotten. He stayed up late, practically glued to the televid, following all the developments of the rescue as the night wore on. By the time the day was dawning over in Italy, and the news anchorman gave a big thanks to International Rescue, the hour was well past midnight. Lou had armed her alarm system around eleven and said her goodnights, giving him a chaste peck on the cheek before going off to her room. 

Jeff looked over at the vidphone and debated whether or not he should call Scott for a final update before going to sleep, but decided against it. _I'll catch him in the morning on my way to Tallahassee. That way I can speak freely and not wonder if I'm being overheard. _He shook his head sadly. _Lou must find it hard living like this, always looking over her shoulder, never able to feel secure. Maybe I should invite her out the island for an extended vacation. At least there she wouldn't have to worry about all this cloak and dagger business. _He sighed and stretched. The sigh turned into a yawn and Jeff stood up to make his way to the guest room. He reached in back of the stereo and fumbled for the jammer's switch, toggling it into the off position. Then he turned off the lights, and prepared himself for bed.

xxxx

"Did you deactivate the alarm?"

"Yeah. I got all three units; garage, front door, and back door."

"I don't like this. Taking her with him here is just asking for trouble."

"Too bad. It's orders from higher up. Just don't hurt him too much and we should be golden."

"I still don't like it, but then who cares what I think?"

"Let's just get on with it."

"Three, Five, you're with me. We'll take her out. Two, Four, you go after him. Handle him gently. I have no desire to have the whole country looking for us. Everyone through the back door." A look at a lighted watch face. "Three a.m. Let's do it."

xxxx

It seemed as if Jeff had just fallen asleep when rough, gloved hands hauled him from beneath the covers. Disoriented, he tried to lash out only to find himself pushed violently up against a wall, his face mashed against the painted surface. His arms were pinned behind him and he felt his wrists being fastened together. As this was going on, a hand was put up against the back of his head, and a low voice, unidentifiable as to gender, spoke.

"Now, Mr. Tracy. We don't want to hurt you, but if we have to, we will. You cooperate and you'll walk away from this alive." He was blindfolded then propelled out the guest room door and across the hall to the living room. As he passed through the hallway, he could hear a commotion coming from the rear of the building; shouts and swearing and loud thumps, ending abruptly with a scream. His assailants pushed him down onto the couch, and he slowly righted himself into a sitting position.

"Keep an eye on him," the low voice said. "I'll go help the others." A grunt was the answer he or she got, then footsteps hurried out of the room and down the uncarpeted hall.

xxxx

One of the straps on Lou's tank top broke as she was hauled unceremoniously out of bed. It only took seconds for her to come alert and start fighting the three black clad bodies who surrounded her and sought to immobilize her. A well-placed kick doubled over one of her assailants, and a flailing elbow made contact, too. Her enemies cursed as they tried to get close enough to hold her still. At last, one of the three managed to grab her right arm and twist it sharply. Lou screamed as her shoulder was neatly dislocated. The person who had taken the elbow moved in swiftly with a hypospray. Pressed to the side of her neck, the dose was powered past her skin and directly into the carotid artery. Within moments, Lou lay unconscious on the floor.

"Damn bitch!" The one Lou had kicked returned the favor, slamming a foot into her ribs.

"Don't waste time," the leader growled. "Pick her up and bring her to the kitchen. We have to tie her down before she comes around. That serum doesn't take long."

xxxx

Jeff strained his ears to hear what was going on in other parts of the house. He could hear the breathing of the person set to guard him and an occasional clinking sound as the bastard changed position. Trying to ignore that, he focused on listening to the noises coming from down the hall. At first, he could hear someone complaining in a medium whining tone, and being answered by a low rumble. Then a loud slap resounded down the hall and he winced. A sing-song murmuring reached his ears, familiar, yet not, but another slap cut that short. Lou's voice, words indistinct but the tone recognizable, sounded forth, the volume made soft by distance. Drunken laughter, from a single throat, wafted down the hall, and a sharp, harsh word, followed by yet another blow silenced it. Jeff seethed; he could only imagine what was happening to Lou in her own kitchen. A loud and distinct, "No!" came to his hearing, followed by a shriek of pain. It was all he could do to hold himself still.

xxxx

"Uhhhh." The moan came unbidden to Lou's lips. She tried to open her eyes and found that she could not_. Hmmm... I think I'm blindfolded. _The realization didn't seem to concern her, nor did the throbbing pain in her shoulder. She tried to move her hands and feet and found them restrained_. Tied up, too. _Again, the fact didn't seem to give her pause; it was just a fact and detached from where she was, floating in a darkness.

"How much longer?" someone whined somewhere in the distance.

"She should be coming around about now," a deep, somewhat familiar voice answered. Her head jerked violently to one side and the sting of a palm slowly followed the slap. "C'mon, you. Wake up!"

Lou felt herself smiling. She now knew where she was and what had happened. _I've been here before,_ she remembered. _I've been shot full of truth serum. Powerful stuff, too; I feel high as a kite. Now, Myles, just remember: you are in control. _Even as she thought this, she heard an off-key mumbling coming from somewhere"Less go fly uh kite,up too th' hi-yess hite..."_ Is that... me? Oh, God. I'm singing. I hate singing in front of people. And... Mary Poppins? Ugh._

Her captors hated it, too, for one of them let fly with another slap. Lou's head jerked in the other direction, and she tasted blood inside her mouth.

"Stop singing, bitch!" came a command from the whiner.

"That's enough," said a woman. Lou could feel the woman's breath close to her ear. "Now, dear Lucinda, where's the file? The one Tom gave you?"

_Denial first. _"Wha' file? I don' have enny file." Lou's words slurred from the drug.

A fist slammed into the side of her head, grazing along her jawline. "Wrong answer, love. Now, let's try it again. Where's the file?"

Her mind grabbed hold of her answer and held it tight. "I dunno whut chu mean. I don' have enny file." Lou began to laugh uncontrollably, her laughter sounding drunken in her ears. Another fist connected, this time over her blindfolded right eye. Lou stopped laughing, though an unwanted chuckle or giggle still occasionally slipped through

"Wrong again." The woman was getting impatient; Lou could tell in her voice. She grabbed Lou's chin. "Tom told us you had it, Lucinda. He begged and pleaded for us to leave his little wifey alone, crying and telling us that you had the file."

Lou shuddered uncontrollably. She knew now that these weren't Interpol regulars, that they were some rogue element that was looking for the disk. She took a deep breath. _Time for some truth. _"Oookay. Tom wuz right. I had th' file. But no more, no more. I's mashed it innu a milllllion pieshes. Burn'd th' pickchurs an' threw th' pieshes 'way."

There was a moment of silence, then a different voice started in. A voice that made Lou's blood run cold as she heard and recognized it. The owner of that low, genderless voice squatted before her, leaning in close, hot breath inches from her face.

"No, Lucinda. That's not like you. You wouldn't destroy such an interesting file. You're too much the pack rat when it comes to information."

She instinctively turned away, but her face was caught again, and brought back. A gloved hand pulled down her nightie top where the strap had broken, exposing her to the air. The leather covered fingers stroked and played with her for a moment, then the voice asked seductively, "Where is it? Where's the file?"

_Bastard!_ "I tole y'already. Is mashed it. Is gone. Alllllll gone."

The gloved finger traced its way downward, down her side, down into her pajama waistband. She squirmed and shouted, "NO!" The owner of the finger chuckled and abandoned his exploration, opting instead to push hard on her damaged shoulder, eliciting a scream of pain.

Lou breathed out a sob, not entirely faked, and swallowed. She heard someone leave the room and the murmur of voices farther away. The footsteps returned, and her current torturer said, "Show her." The blindfold was removed, and Lou gasped.

xxxx

Jeff was taken by surprise when someone came back down the hall and entered the living room. "She's being stubborn," the feminine voice said. "Bring him." Hands grabbed at his upper arms, forcing him off the couch. He thought briefly of slamming his captors into the wall as they led him down the corridor, but a gun in his ribs convinced him just how foolish such an act would be. At last they stopped at the end of the hall. Jeff could smell the spices left over from the enchiladas; it mixed with the musky scent of perspiration from several bodies. The grasp on his arms tightened, and the gun barrel moved from his side to his head.

"Show her," the low-voiced person said. Jeff heard the rustle of fabric, and then a gasp of horror.

"No, no!" He heard Lou murmur tearfully. "Don' hurt him. Please, don'!"

"Then for the last time, where is the file?" The low voice was hard and full of anger.

Lou swallowed again._ Damn. I hoped they wouldn't do this. I guess it's time to make them think they've broken me. Time to give them what they're looking for. _

She whispered something, something that Jeff could not make out clearly. There was a loud smack, and Jeff convulsed in his captors' grip, wanting to break free and help Lou. "Easy, Mr. Tracy," murmured the woman who held the gun. "Let's not be hasty now."

"Th' littuh box. Is sin th' littuh box," Lou said with an audible sob. There was a slight collective groan from the people in the room, and the low voice commanded to one of the not-yet-heard-from people in the room to fetch whatever it was they were looking for. A louder groan, this one of disgust, reached Jeff's ears, then the low-voiced one said, "Take him back."

Jeff was hustled off down the corridor again, but as his escorts reached the end nearest the front door and the entry to the living room, there was a skittering of gravel outside and even Jeff could make out the bright, then dark, then bright again of a police car's light.

"The locals!" his silent-til-now escort and guard shouted. The declaration was greeted by a loud, "What?" down in the kitchen. Jeff was shoved roughly, stumbling face-down onto the leather sofa, then helplessly rolling off between the sofa and the ottoman. The two who held him ran off down the hall just as a pounding and shouting was heard at the front door.

"Police! Open up!"

Jeff breathed a sigh of relief and tried to wriggle his hands out of their bonds. Suddenly, he heard a shot ring out, and another. _Where? Where was it? Was it inside the house? Or outside? _He began to shout, "Lou! Lou, can you hear me? Lou! Where are you? Lou! Are you all right?"

Finally the front door slammed open and the sound of running feet went by. Someone, a man, said, "In there! I'll take the back!" and suddenly the ottoman was cleared away and Jeff was being untied. "Hold still, sir, while I cut these cuffs off," a commanding female voice said sternly. Then Jeff's hands were free and he pulled off the blindfold. The house was still dark and someone was shining a flashlight in his eyes. He held up a hand to shield them as he was helped from the floor.

"Are you all right, sir? What's your name?" The female sheriff's officer, tall, with curly dark hair, put out a hand to steady him.

"Never mind about me," Jeff said, already moving out of the room. "Lou?"

xxxx

The relief she had been waiting for, had been anticipating, had finally arrived. She squashed the desire to ask, "What took you so long?" as the blindfold was removed from her face. Squinting from the bright kitchen light, her blurred vision could only make out a dark roundish shape peering back at her. "Luci?" the shape asked. There was a sudden commotion at the doorway and the dark thing went away, and a lighter shape, topped with red, swam into view. A soft voice murmured, "Let's cover you up, okay?" as delicate fingers pulled her nightie back into place.

xxxx

Jeff hustled down the hall to the now-lit kitchen. A massive, dark man stopped him at the door, calling to the woman who had followed Jeff, "Chris, order an ambulance."

"Right," the woman said, and she fingered her earpiece to put in the call. The muscular officer turned his eyes to Jeff and caught his gaze.

"Now, sir. Who are you, and what happened here?" he asked gruffly.

"My name is Jefferson Tracy. Please, officer..." Jeff read the shiny name tag that the lawman wore., "...Mason. Let me see Mrs. Myles. I need to see that she's all right."

"Mrs. Myles is being tended by our officers. As soon as it's possible, you can see her," Officer Mason said. He turned back as he heard a soft, slurred, "Joze? 'S thachyou? WheresCheff?"

Officer Mason glanced at Jeff, huffed once through his nose, then led Jeff over to the kitchen chair where Lou sat. Jeff's eyes widened and he stifled a gasp as he crouched down in front of Lou. Her face was bruised and battered; her lower lip was split and her puffy nose bled from the right nostril. One eye was swollen shut, and there were bruises forming on her wrists and ankles. Her right arm hung from the shoulder at an odd angle. The redhaired officer was preparing an ice pack for Lou's eye. Jeff touched her gently on the knee. "Lou? Lucinda?"

"Cheff? OhgodCheff. I tought dey shotchu," she said, almost throwing herself into his arms.

He held her as he had the evening before, whispering words of comfort in her ear, mindful of the shoulder, and her torn tank top, but this time her seemingly boneless body weight threatened to push him back onto the floor. He glanced over at Officer Mason with an expression of concern and questioning. Then he put his hands on Lou's waist and pushed her back up on the chair. "Sit tight until the ambulance gets here, Lou."

"Don' go!" she pleaded. "Cheff don' go!"

He took her left hand and rubbed the back of it. "I'm not going anywhere," he said, smiling at her gently. "I'll stay right here until the ambulance arrives."

"Luci?" Officer Mason now crouched before Lou again, catching her attention. "Luci? What happened? Who did this to you?"

"Hi, Joze," Lou said, frowning. "Whodunnit? Don' know." She shook her head slowly. "Buncha hoo... hooligans, tha's who. Lookin' fer valubles. Mama's emrald neckliss. Th' Borghetta pichure. My dimon' studs." She leaned forward with a little smile and pointed at Jeff. "Joze... they din' know. He smore valble than any ol' emrald."

Officer Mason took glanced over again at Jeff, his eyes narrowed as he studied the older man's face. They widened suddenly with recognition, and he nodded unconsciously. A pair of paramedics made an appearance and both Jeff and Officer Mason stepped back to let them do their work. Lou called out, "Cheff? Don' let them take me, Cheff?"

"I'm coming with you, Lou, don't worry," Jeff assured her. "Just let me get my shoes." He hurried down the hall and found the clothes he had taken off a few hours before. Moving quickly, he slipped on his pants, socks, and shoes, then put a jacket on over his t-shirt and was ready to go by the time the paramedics had Lou at the front door. One of them looked at him, then glanced back at Officer Mason, who nodded. "Let him ride with her."

"Thank you, Officer Mason," Jeff said with a tight smile.

"I'll see you at the hospital, Mr. Tracy," the policeman promised. "I still have questions to ask... of both of you."

Jeff nodded, and went to follow the paramedics. He turned briefly as he heard Officer Mason coo, "Well, hello there, Snowball. Where'd you come from?" The sheriff's man had Lou's white cat in his arms as if they were old friends, a fact that Jeff stashed away in his mind for later perusal.

xxxx

"Well? Did you get it?" The leader of the raiders waited at the top of the road beyond Lou's house for the rest of her crew. The final man, the one who had been dispatched to fetch the disk, climbed into the dark blue Humvee.

"Yes." The black dressed figure held up the bag with the disk in it. "That was a nasty job. Why do you leave the nasty jobs to me?"

The woman ignored her companion and snatched it from his fingers. She removed the ski mask that had obscured her face and opened the dusty, foul smelling bag. Sliding the case out, she opened it. "Shine your light over here."

One of the other raiders pulled out a penlight and shone it on the disk. The woman smiled. "The markings are right. This must be the file."

"What happened to the paperwork?" the man with the low voice asked, removing his own ski mask.

"She must have burned it like she said she did," the woman replied, putting the disk back in its case. "But I bet all the pictures are on this little beauty."

"So, what do we do now?" the man who had been watching Jeff asked. "The cops are all over her place. They'll be looking for us."

The low voiced man pulled out a map. "According to this, the road was cleared farther along than this. We drive a little ways up, and it will double back to an old hunter's access track. That will hook us up with the main drag by the river further down."

"Good. Let's get out of here. We've got to rendezvous with a jet in Charlotte," the woman said as she started the Humvee. "Then on to the Bahamas."

xxxx

Brains had just awakened, and was eating breakfast in his hotel suite. Being head engineer for one of the world's richest men had its advantages, one of which was a nearly unlimited expense account. Munching on a bagel, he sat on the sofa and used the remote to channel surf. He hastily backtracked when he heard the name, "Jefferson Tracy". The anchorwoman had already skipped to the next story, but Brains knew that she would get back to it sooner or later. At last, the story reappeared.

"In celebrity news today, Jefferson Tracy, the multi-billionaire recluse, was a victim in an alleged home invasion in Asheville, North Carolina. He was visiting with a Lucinda Myles, who is purported to be an old friend of Tracy's and his late wife. He and his friend were taken to a local hospital for treatment of their injuries."

Brains sat there blinking for a moment, then got up to find his satellite phone. Using his speed dial, he tried to call Jeff. He was disappointed when he got his employer's voice mail.

_Where did I put Lou's number?_ he asked himself, rummaging through his briefcase to find his PDA. _Ah, here it is._

He dialed Lou's number and made a disgusted face when her answering machine picked up. Blowing out a frustrated breath, he dropped to the sofa. _What do I do now? _He looked down at his phone. _I guess it's time to call Scott. What time is it on the Island? Never mind; night or day, this can't wait._


	19. Brains to the rescue

_Author's note:_ A quieter interlude this time, focusing on Jeff with a little help from his chief engineer. As I've mentioned before, the headquarters for the world government is in the Bahamas, in a city called Unity City. Big thanks to Hobbeth for betareading, and to Math Girl, ArtisticRainey, and Amanda Tracy for their encouragement. Now, on to my reviewers:

**Girl-Detective: **Did they get the real disk? That's what Jeff wants to know, too. I thought of a song that she might sing, a bit of free association. Almost went back and put it in the last chapter. Might still do that, who knows? (update 2/28: I went back and put the bit of song in. Thanks for the inspiration!)

**Claudette: **Yes, Jeff will be angry. But there's not much he can do, you know. He's far away from home and a little short on resources.

**fellowriverrat: **Glad to see you're back online. This story still has a way to go yet, with plenty of Jeff and Lou interaction, but this chapter zeroes in on Jeff and what he's doing. I'm so glad you enjoy the twists. They're fun to develop and write. And yes, Jeff is getting a taste of why Lou is so concerned.

_Disclaimer: _I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any and all original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

Scott's rather explosive reaction to his news still ringing in his ears, Brains got off the commuter jet in Asheville, one of about a dozen people who were making the stop on the way between Atlanta and Raleigh-Durham. A quick call ahead had secured his further transport, a sleek luxury sedan worthy of one of the world's richest men. He took possession of it and programmed the onboard computer with Lou's address, which Scott had given to him. The easiest route was displayed on the screen, along with traffic conditions. With a sigh, the genius left the jetport and followed the indicated path to the small red dot indicating where Lou Myles had settled down. 

As he approached the house, he noticed several cars in the drive. One was a county sheriff's car, plainly marked. A burly officer was standing beside it, talking into his cruiser's microphone. There was a large beige truck, and beside it, in front of the police vehicle, was a cream colored van, with words stenciled on the side. Brains swept by the house, made a three-point turn further up the road, came back down as far as the inn, then turned around again in their parking lot and drove back up to Lou's. He parked the car in view of the house just short of the opening to the drive. The porch was blocked off with bright yellow crime scene tape, and it drew Brains's attention as he walked onto the property.

The officer looked up and frowned as Brains approached. He muttered something into the microphone then spoke to him. "Can I help you with something?"

Brains reached into his sport jacket pocket, making sure that the sheriff's man could see his every move. He took out a slim wallet and extracted an ID card. Handing it to over, he said, "I'm, uh, Hiram H-Hackenbacker. I'm looking for M-Mr. Tracy." As Brains waited for the officer to scrutinize his Tracy Industries' identification, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A dark-skinned woman, braided hair pulled back, came around the side of the house with a gray cat in her arms. Brains glanced over at the van, noticing the words "Mason's Pet Sitting Service" as part of the advertising on the side. _Lou's mysterious Mrs. Mason? _he asked himself.

The lawman was finished with the ID and seemed satisfied. As he returned the card, he said, "Well, Mr. Hackenbacker, the last I knew, your employer was at Mission Hospital."

"W-Was he badly hurt?" Brains asked, concerned.

"Not to my knowledge." The officer turned and called to the woman, "How's it coming, Miz Mason?"

"It's not, Mike" the woman answered. "Two of Miz Myles's cats are still on the loose. I'm going to be here for a while yet, I think."

Mike frowned again. "I've got to get back on patrol. Will you be okay by yourself? Joze'd skin me if something happened to you."

Jadzia Mason snorted. "You tell Josiah that if he's so damned worried about me, he needs to get his butt down here and help. I know he's off duty now," she said with some exasperation. "Never mind, I'll call him myself!"

Mike chuckled, then noticed Brains still standing there, observing. "You'd better be on your way, sir."

"Y-Yes, you're right. Thank you for the, uh, information," Brains replied, nodding. He retraced his steps to the sedan, then turned around to head back down the gravel road and on to the hospital that the officer had mentioned.

xxxx

Jeff startled awake from his doze. He sat in the chair near the bed in the private room he had arranged for Lou, waiting for her to wake up. The drug that she had in her system had finally rendered her unconscious again, but not before she had been thoroughly examined, scanned, and treated. But because they couldn't identify what she had been shot up with, the doctors decided to keep her overnight for observation. He himself sported a small bandage on one cheek, treatment of an abrasion suffered when he had been pushed up against the wall. Since no one had told him he had to leave, he stayed, hoping to talk to her in private when she awoke.

Officer Mason had taken his statement hours before. He really hadn't been able to tell the man much, just what had happened to him and his impressions of the entire scenario. No, he hadn't seen any of his assailants. Yes, he thought that there were five of them; he had heard at least that many different voices. No, he had no idea what they were after. In this, he lied, for he had a _very _good idea what the raiders has been looking for and it concerned him that they had broken Lou to the point that she gave it to them. He also omitted one other small detail: the fact that these people knew damn well just who he was and had called him by name.

Mason had also questioned Lou to the extent that he could before the drug zoned her out completely. Jeff doubted that she told the officer much more than he himself had, though trying to recount the event through the increasing drowsiness made her nearly unintelligible. Jeff was certain that the sheriff's men would be back for more information when Lou was coherent.

He glanced over at the sleeper, taking in the arm that had been strapped with a wide, soft band to keep it in place as the muscles and tendons regrouped after its forcible relocation back into the shoulder socket. _She looks terrible, but the doctors seemed to be more concerned with the drug than with her injuries. _He shook his head at the bruised and swollen face, and, now that the danger was past, his anger came to the forefront and he scowled.

_What went on there in that kitchen? What did they do to her? How far did those bastards go to get what they wanted? Those S.O.B.s asked for a file and she gave them one. Did they have time to get it? _He shook his head then stood to pace the floor. A nagging, niggling thought kept surfacing and try as he might, he couldn't get rid of it. _But was it the same file? Did she lie to me about destroying it? She could have easily made another copy of it. Just as she could easily have planned and staged this whole affair. Like the plane going down. All of this could be just a front for my benefit. But **why**? Why would she do that? She's my friend. I trust her... _

He paced the floor some more and then threw himself back into the chair. _Where the hell is Brains? Scott told me he was on his way when I finally was able to call home. I'm sure I'm going to get more than an earful from Scott and the other boys when I'm clear of this, especially since Scott told me just how **he** found out what happened. Damn the media! Hope Mother doesn't find out the same way. Lou was right; I **am** a celebrity. That **is** the reason I gave for my move to the island. Confound it! Where is the man? Where is Brains?_

He stood again to pace when the door opened and a phlebotomy technician bustled in, a small basket in hand. She looked surprised to see him, but gave him a smile. "Need a sample from Mrs. Myles," she said by way of explanation. Jeff scrutinized the cheerful woman carefully, but she had a proper hospital badge and the way she went about her duties reminded him of Brains working in the sickroom. He cursed internally. _This whole thing has me jumping at shadows! _

Her work complete, the technician bustled out again, and passed Brains, who was just coming in. "H-Hello, Mr. Tracy."

"Brains! Just the man I need!" Jeff exclaimed. "I called Scott and he said you were on your way."

Brains moved over to Lou's bed and ran a shrewd, practiced glance over her face. "I-I'm sorry I, uh, took so long, Mr. Tracy. I didn't know wh-where you were. I went to L-Lou's first." He turned to his employer. "A sheriff's officer t-told me you were, uh, still here."

"Hmm. Do you think that officer would still be there?" Jeff asked. "I need a change of clothes and access to my PDA."

Brains shook his head. "N-No, Mr. Tracy. But a Mrs. Mason might be. She's Lou's c-cat sitter and she was having trouble, uh, rounding up the c-cats. Said she'd be there f-for a while."

"Good!" Jeff said. "You have a rental?" When Brains nodded, he held out his hand. "Let me use it. That and your satellite phone. I'll go back to the house and see if Mrs. Mason will let me in to get my things. Give Scott a call on the way. You stick here and look after Lou. I'll be back as soon as I can be."

Brains sighed, and handed over the car keys, describing the vehicle for Jeff as he did so. Jeff clapped him on the shoulder and left, plans beginning to form in his mind. Brains made himself comfortable in the chair, and settled down to wait.

Once on the road, Jeff plugged in Brains's phone, and called home. Scott answered, looking sleepy. "Hey, Dad. What's the news?"

"Not much. Lou is still out of it, but Brains is on the scene and looking after her for me. Any word from our agents?"

"None yet, but they've only been on alert for a couple of hours. Alan's up and combing through the flights out of Asheville over the past few hours as you directed. He's not reported anything unusual."

"Hmm." Jeff looked thoughtful, half his mind on his driving while the other half wrestled with the problem at hand. "Have him expand the search. First airports within a 100 mile radius, then 200 mile, looking for small craft or commercial flights to the Bahamas."

"That's a pretty big order, Dad. Why the Bahamas?" Scott asked.

"Something Lou said to me," Jeff replied. "Make sure our agents in and around Unity City are on full alert. Give Penelope a ring and brief her on the situation. Hopefully I'll have more to give you once I talk with Lou." He paused as he turned onto the road to Lou's house. "How's Gordon?"

"Bruised, battered and with a pulled groin muscle. I had Dr. Cruz look at him. Fortunately, Gordon's not grounded from swimming if he takes it easy."

Jeff winced at the thought of Gordon's injuries. "What did you tell Cruz?"

"Parasailing accident. He seemed to accept it."

"Good call. Listen, I'm at Lou's now and hope to collect up a few of my things. I'll talk with you again soon."

"Right, Dad. Bye."

xxxx

Jeff noticed the cream colored van parked beside Lou's truck as he eased the sedan in behind it. As he got out, he saw a dark blue motorcycle sitting between the garage building and the van, a slick-looking helmet fastened behind the double seat. He frowned as Officer Joze Mason came from behind the house, dressed in civilian clothes.

_What the hell is **he** doing here?_ "Hello, Officer Mason," Jeff said, trying to be cordial.

"Hey there, Mr. Tracy. Has Luci been released from the hospital yet?" Joze called as he headed for the van.

"No, they're keeping her overnight for observation. What brings you here off-duty?"

Joze smiled wryly. "Cat round up." He gestured with his head back to the house. "My wife is trying to get Luci's four back inside where they belong." He opened the back of the van. "She's got three out of four, but Spot is being stubborn."

"She is, is she?" Jeff said, politely. He was strangely relieved to find that Officer Mason was married. "Perhaps you could help me with something."

"What is it?" Joze asked as he pulled out a net.

"I need access to my personal things. Clothes, briefcase, all that. Could you let me in? You can watch me collect what I need."

Joze took in a deep breath and let it out through his nose. "I suppose so. Jadzia's the one with the key and the access code. Come with me. I'll ask her to let you in."

Jeff followed the other man to the back of the house. There, kneeling by an opening under the back porch, was a handsome young woman, two of her long thin braids hanging down beside her face, having escaped the bunch at the back of her neck. She was crouching on all fours, an open can of tuna beside her.

"Spot! C'mon, baby. Don't be stubborn," she called. She turned as she heard footsteps, "Joze? Where's the... oh! Hello." She got up from the ground when she saw Jeff, dusting her hands off on the sides of her khakis, then holding one out. "Jadzia Mason. You must be Mr. Tracy. I see the resemblance to your son, the one who brought Luci home.."

Jeff smiled and shook her hand. "Yes, I'm Jeff Tracy. I think it was Alan you met. Your husband was telling me that you're having a... 'Spot' of trouble."

Jadzia chuckled at the pun, then sighed. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Spot doesn't like me much, you see. To her, I mean a ride in a car and lots of drooling. It's gotten so bad that she hides when she sees me. She won't even come out for tuna. I'm hoping that if I move away, her hunger will overrule her skittishness and I'll be able to nab her with the net." She shook her head. "That's going to make her dislike me even more, but I can't leave her outside."

Lou's words about Spot from their encounter in the bathroom came back to Jeff, and he said, "Spot favored me with her attentions in the bathroom the other day. Lou said that she liked me. Perhaps I could..."

"Be my guest, Mr. Tracy," Jadzia picked up the can of tuna and handed it to him. "Don't be surprised if it doesn't work, though. Joze and I will back off."

Thus challenged, Jeff took the can and crouched down before the opening of the porch. In the shadows he saw a slight movement, and recognized the form of the cat. Squelching the desire to say, "Out, damned Spot! Out I say!", he called softly, holding the smelly fish before him. "C'mon, Spot. Come on out, kitty."

Spot turned her head toward him, and he could see the yellow of her eyes almost eclipsed by the wide black pupils. She craned her neck as she gazed out at him unflinchingly, sniffing a bit. He continued to coax her vocally, raising the volume of his wheedling until he had achieved the same tone as he had used in the bathroom. She began to move toward him slowly, stretching and pretending that she didn't hear him, but coming ever closer and closer. He reached out a hand, and she flinched and drew back. "C'mon, Spot. Come to me." He placed the can between himself and the opening, then withdrew his hands. A few more hesitant steps, and Spot was clear of the porch. She nosed the tuna experimentally, then removed a chunk with her mouth and set it down beside the can, breaking it up into smaller bits as she chomped on it. Jeff reached out slowly and stroked his fingers lightly across her back. She raised her head suddenly to look at him for a long moment, then went back to her eating. Carefully he slipped a hand under her chest, and before she could twist out of his grasp, he had her.

"Good Spot, good kitty," he murmured as he held her close to his chest, rubbing the cat along the cheeks and between the ears.

"Nicely done," Joze remarked, grinning. Jadzia moved in to pick up the tuna. As she approached, Spot squirmed in Jeff's arms, and he moved his scratching hand down to better secure the wiggling feline.

"See? She doesn't like me," Jadzia said, shaking her head. "C'mon. Let's take her inside and put her on the porch with the others."

"What about the tuna?" Jeff asked as he followed Jadzia inside, Joze bringing up the rear.

"I'll put it aside and give them all a portion at dinner," Jadzia promised. She took charge of Spot, removing her from Jeff's arms, unlatching the cat door and slipping the skinny tortie through. The cat came face to face with Midnight, who had hurried over to the door in hopes of getting off the porch. Her ears went back, and she hissed and swatted him, giving Jadzia time to latch the door again.

"I'm going to collect a few of my belongings," Jeff said, pointing to the hallway. Jadzia nodded and Joze followed him. He stopped short for a moment in the kitchen, confronted suddenly with The Chair: the kitchen chair where Lou had been secured by the raiders. He took a deep breath, let it out through his nose, and continued past, down the hall to the guest room.

He surveyed the room from the door for a moment, taking in the rumpled bed and sighing. Stepping in, he opened the closet and pulled down his briefcase, unlocking and opening it to check the contents, then securing it again. A shirt and slacks followed, then he took out a clean set of underthings and his shaving kit from his suitcase. He glanced over at Joze, noticing for the first time the smear of blood on the wall to the right of the bedroom door, encircled by a policeman's mark. "I'd like to get a shower, if that's okay?"

"Sure. Just answer this. When the raiders pulled you out of bed, is this," he indicated the spot on the wall, "where they slammed you up against the wall?"

Jeff sighed again. "Yes. It is. Just as I said in my statement. Now, if you don't mind?"

Joze moved out of the way and Jeff headed for the shower.

xxxx

Clean and now armed with the technology he needed, Jeff left the house to the Masons, and headed down the gravel road. He took a left hand turn, drove along the river and, on a sudden impulse, made a sharp turn up and onto the Blue Ridge Parkway. At the first scenic overlook, he pulled into the parking lot. For a long moment he gazed out the windshield, unseeing. Then he began to work.

First, he took out his laptop and plugged it into the car's electrical system. He booted it up, and created a wireless link to the 'Net. Then, out came his PDA. He keyed in the password and opened up his address book, scrolling down to the entry that Lou had added. Entering the address of the email box, he typed in the password, and uploaded the attachments, being certain to send them through the Tracy Industries email filters. Then, he put the attachments into new emails, and sent them to Scott at his Tracy Industries inbox. Picking up his own satellite phone, he placed a call.

Scott jumped when the vidphone in the lounge rang once again. He had been dozing in his father's chair, waiting to hear from Alan, who had set Thunderbird Five's powerful computers to search for flights to the Bahamas. He ran a hand through his mussed hair, and answered the phone .

"Hello, Scott," Jeff said, his attention half on his computer and half on his son. "I've sent you a series of emails with file attachments. I want you to store them on our IR server, but not before running them through Brains's filters and doing a complete virus scan."

"What's it all about, Dad?" Scott asked.

"Lou sent these by email to a drop box and gave me the means to upload them. But I want to make perfectly sure that they aren't carrying any malicious code," Jeff explained. "Once they're cleared, leave them on the server in a separate, password-protected folder. I'll go over them with you when I return."

"I don't understand. Why all the cloak and dagger?"

Jeff was brought up short by Scott's question. It was so similar to what Lou had said that first night. He realized that despite all his best efforts, Lou's deep sense of paranoia had passed to him. So deep was it that he was even questioning _her_ motives, he who had said he trusted her just hours before.

"It's hard to explain, Scott. Suffice it to say, when you see the files, you'll understand."

"Okay, Dad. I trust your judgment. I'll take care of this right away."

"Thanks, son. Once you're through, get some sleep. Roust John or Virgil out of bed to wait for Alan's report. I'll call back once I've spoken to Lou."

"Right, Dad. Talk to you later."

The call disconnected, and Jeff sat for a moment, cursing himself internally for letting himself get to this point. Then he pulled a card out of his pocket, and dialed another number. When the computer switchboard answered the call, he punched in an extension. After a moment's wait, the words "voice only" came up, but he could hear Brains's hesitant, "H-Hello?".

"Brains? Jeff. How is she?"

"Ah, M-Mr. Tracy. She's c-come around. The sh-sheriff's officer wants me to, uh, clear out so he can talk to her. F-Fortunately, he, uh, has to w-wait in line. The doctor is h-here now." Brains looked away. "I, uh, have to go. They're k-kicking me out."

"Okay, Brains. I'll be there as soon as traffic allows. Goodbye." Jeff ended the call, then started the car and pulled out of the scenic overlook, heading back to the city and his chat with Lou.


	20. Jeff and Lou tell all

_Author's note:_ Now, for some answers (and possibly a few more questions). Big thanks to Hobbeth for betareading, and to Math Girl, ArtisticRainey, and Amanda Tracy for their encouragement. Oh, and my Italian is courtesy of AltaVista's Babel Fish translation site, so if it's not idiomatic, blame them! **http:**(double slash)**babelfish**(DOT!)**altavista**(DOT!)**com**(slash)**babelfish**(slash)**tr**. Now, on to my reviewers:

**Girl-Detective: **Yes, it probably was a toss-up between Jeff and the tuna. I know that my own cats would rather have the fish than me any day. BTW, I added a snippet of song to chapter 18. Thanks for the idea!

**Math Girl: **Jeff is learning to look at things from a more security-oriented position and is thinking worst-case scenario. You're right, though; Lou could have really done a job on him and on IR had she so chosen. Fortunately for Jeff, she chose to be a true friend.

**FrankieC: **No Jane Marple, I promise. I'm glad I made it seem real to you. There are so many places to go with the name "Spot", and that one I just couldn't resist.

**fellowriverrat: **Yes, Jeff's best efforts are being shown up as inadequate and in serious need of overhaul. Brains is such a critical character in the story overall, and he's probably my third favorite, after Jeff and Gordon. So I tend to try and round him out as a character. And, yes, Jadzia Dax is where I got the name, though the character kind of named herself. When I first envisioned her and was looking for a name, Jadzia popped into my head and wouldn't go away. Same thing with Joze. Odd, the things these characters do sometimes.

_Disclaimer: _I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any and all original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

The darkness Lou was in began to lift. She moaned slightly, her head throbbing, her mouth feeling like it was full of cotton. Somewhere nearby something rustled, then she heard a familiar tenor voice, one that confused her. 

"L-Lou?"

She tried to open her eyes, but only one obeyed her mental command. The other felt swollen, and could open no more than a slit. She closed it again and squinted with the other as Brains's bespectacled face moved into her line of vision.

"B-Brains? How... how did I get to... the island?" she murmured, her voice rattling and raspy in her ear..

He smiled. "You're n-not on the, uh, island. You're in the h-hospital. In Asheville."

She blinked her one good eye as she tried to absorb the information. "Oh, okay." A pause. "Where did you...?"

"Where d-did I come from? I-I was in, uh, Atlanta. For a conference. S-Scott told me to c-come," he explained patiently. "How d-do you feel?"

She moved a bit, and involuntarily hissed as a sharp pain lanced through her shoulder. "Sore. Hung over." She closed her eyes and grimaced. "Headache. Face hurts."

"I'll t-tell the d-doctor you're awake."

Lou just listened as a doctor came in and Brains explained that she was awake. Someone knocked on the open door, and words were exchanged between the doctor, Brains, and whoever had knocked. Then the phone rang, and she winced at the sound. She heard Brains answer the phone. "H-Hello?"

A pause, then, "Ah, M-Mr. Tracy. She's c-come around." At those words, Lou's one clear eye flew open. _Jeff! _She lost the rest of the conversation, but the doctor, who had finally shooed away the third man, called a nurse and moved over to talk to Brains. She heard the engineer say, "I, uh, have to go. They're k-kicking me out."

Lou turned her head toward him as he hung up the phone. "Brains?" He glanced over at her, and she asked, "Is Jeff okay?"

Brains nodded. "H-He's okay. He's on his, uh, way here."

The nurse came in, and Brains went out. Lou sighed and laid back, allowing the doctor and nurse to examine her.

xxxx

The elevator deposited Jeff on Lou's hospital floor, and he strode briskly down the corridor toward her room. His headlong hustle abruptly came to a halt as he heard Brains call out, "M-Mr. Tracy!" Turning, he saw his chief engineer waving and beckoning to him from what looked like a waiting area. Frowning, he pointed to the closed door of the room where he last knew Lou was ensconced. "Let me just see Lou..."

Brains interrupted. "N-No, Mr. Tracy. The detectives from the sh-sheriff's office are, uh, in there, questioning her." He beckoned once again and, this time, Jeff turned around, joining him. Brains continued his narrative. "I tried to return to her, uh, room when the d-doctor was done, but was asked if I were, uh, legal counsel. When I said, 'N-No,' I was politely asked to leave."

"Hmph," Jeff snorted. He glanced at his watch. "Wonder why they asked if you were legal counsel? She's the victim here, not the perpetrator." Another glance at his watch, then he suddenly realized what he was doing, and sat down heavily in a chair. He pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes. "I am beat. And hungry. Have you had lunch yet?"

"N-No, sir," Brains admitted. "I haven't."

"Wonder what the food's like here?" Jeff asked, almost absently. He got up and looked down the corridor to the still-closed door. "I don't want to go far..."

"Uh, why don't I go down to the c-cafeteria and get something to go. I c-can bring it up here and we c-can eat while we talk. I, uh, still d-don't have your story yet."

Jeff smiled, the first one in hours. "Good plan, Brains. Do it. I'll wait here, unless the detectives finish with her. Then I'll be in her room."

"Right, M-Mr. Tracy," Brains replied smartly. "B-Be back soon." With that, Brains left, asking directions to the cafeteria of the nurses and heading for the elevators. As the doors opened to admit him, three people got off, carrying a large paper bag. As he stepped into the car, he sniffed the air appreciatively. _Mmmm. Garlic. Someone's had something delicious in here._

Jeff leaned forward in his chair, his hands clasped loosely between his knees, his eyes closing of their own accord. _I am so tired. How long are those detectives going to be? _He sat bolt upright as a trio of familiar voices went by in the hospital corridor. Jumping up, he strode to the open waiting room door and peered out, then called, "_Signora_! _Signora_ Giordano!"

The three people turned at his call, and smiles broke out. "Mr. Tracy!" Fred called. He backtracked to the waiting area, followed more slowly by Gisella and Francesca.

"It's good to see you again, 'Just Jeff'. I suppose our Lucinda must have told you our family name," Francesca said, winking at him. "I thought you might still be here. We heard about the trouble on the televid." She frowned at the bandage on his cheek. "Is that how you got hurt?"

Jeff touched the bandage, gave her a rueful smile and withdrew into the waiting room. The Giordanos followed. Fred put a paper bag carefully down on a table, then sat next to Gisella, who had claimed seats at a right angle from Jeff. The small group waited until Francesca had made herself comfortable before turning their attention to the object of her query.

"In answer to your question, yes, this is a souvenir from last night's... incident," Jeff said wearily. "Believe me, this is nothing compared to Lou... Lucinda's injuries." He gave them a short, edited version of what happened to him and what happened after the police arrived. "I haven't been able to see her since I arrived back here," he told them. "The detectives are still in there questioning her."

"Ah! _Quello é terribile_!" Francesca said. "I'm glad that you weren't hurt much, but I feel very sad for Lucinda." She indicated the bag, the contents of which were making Jeff's mouth water. "We brought her a meal from our kitchens to cheer her and help her recuperate."

"I'm sure that if anything will do that, food from your restaurant will," Jeff replied, taking a deep sniff.

"What were they looking for?" Gisella asked. "Surely Lucinda couldn't have anything so valuable to be tortured so."

Jeff shook his head. "I don't exactly know what they were looking for," he prevaricated. "She mentioned an emerald necklace and a few other valuables."

"Hmm. Still, that's minor. She should have given them what they wanted and they might not have hurt her," Gisella retorted.

"Maybe it had something to do with her old job," Fred offered. "Maybe it was someone out for revenge."

Francesca reached over to swat her grandson. "You with your imagination. I'm sure that any enemies that our Lucinda has are safely behind bars."

Jeff was going to make a comment, when movement in the hall caught his eye. Two men, wearing suitcoats, walked by. One was speaking into a microrecorder, and the other was closing up a PDA. He waited until they had made it onto the elevator, then he poked his head out to see the door to Lou's room was ajar. "Folks, I think that the detectives are gone. Shall we?" He offered a gallant hand to Francesca, who smiled and thanked him. Fred retrieved the bag and, carrying it carefully, followed the older adults down the hallway. Jeff knocked on the door and, hearing a weary, "Come in," swung it open to admit his companions.

"Wow!" Fred whispered, giving a low whistle, while Gisella and his grandmother both drew in sharp breaths. Francesca cried, "Lucinda! What have you been doing to yourself?"

Jeff moved aside as the Giordanos crowded around. Lou essayed a smile, painful though it was, and said, "Just being lazy here, _Nonna_."

"Lazy? Of course not!" Francesca returned. To Jeff's eye, she looked like she was itching to touch Lou, to put a hand to the bruised face and lend comfort that way. But instead she took Lou's good hand and gently squeezed it. "Are you sure it wasn't 'Just Jeff' here who did this?" she asked jokingly, giving Lou a wink.

"I'm sure, _Nonna_," Lou replied. "If it had been, he'd be in the hospital bed and not me."

"Did the detectives grill you, Miz Myles?" Fred asked. "Mr. Tracy told us some of what happened."

"Yes, they did, Fred," Lou said wearily. "And I am _so_ glad that's over for now."

"We can't stay long," Gisella said, as much an explanation to Lou and Jeff as a warning to Francesca. "We'll be needed back at the restaurant for dinner prep. But we brought you this, some chicken marsala," here Fred opened the bag and brought forth take-out plates that filled the room with a delicious aroma, "and we came to see what else we could do to help."

"Vincenzo himself made that for you, Lucinda, so you'd better eat every bite!" Francesca warned, wagging a finger at her.

"Vincenzo himself? I'm honored," Lou responded with another small smile. "I'm sure Jeff will see to it that I eat it, and if I can't, he'll help me. Won't you, Jeff?"

Put on the spot, Jeff grinned, replying, "Chicken marsala, you say? Oh, I'll help. Most definitely."

Even Lou let out a soft chuckle at that comment. Gisella came to the forefront. "Is there anything else we can help you with, Lucinda?"

Lou sighed. "There may be. Once I'm out of here. I'll call and let you know."

"Good enough." Gisella glanced at her two companions. "Well, I think we've stayed long enough. Let's let Lucinda eat in peace and get some rest." The other two agreed, and after a round of goodbyes, the Giordanos filed out, passing Brains, who had just come to the room with two plates of food and two drinks from the cafeteria. Jeff took the plates from him, and told him to close the door. As he went to do so, a dietician's aide came to the door with a tray. She looked around and saw the take-out boxes and smelled the aroma of the Italian food. She smiled and said, "I don't think you'll be needing this, but I'm going to leave it anyway. I'll be back in a half hour to collect the dishes."

Brains lifted the lid on the plate. "L-Looks good, but not as good as that I-Italian concoction smells."

"Bring the cutlery over here, please, Brains," Jeff asked. "Lou can use it. That and the drink." He turned to her and noticed that the wide band had been replaced by a sling on her right arm. "Will you be able to cut this up? Or do you need some help?"

"Some help, I guess."

Jeff regarded Lou for a moment. She looked tired, and pale, and the bruising stood out sharply against her wan complexion. Only one eye was open and he could tell she was trying to keep the other, the black and swollen one, closed. He took the metal cutlery that Brains had brought over and began to slice up the tender chicken. "So, how are you feeling?"

Lou took in a deep breath and let it out through her nose. "Like something Midnight dragged in. The shoulder is throbbing, my head aches, my whole face hurts, and my stomach is either hungry or nauseous, I can't tell which. The doctor doesn't want to give me any pain relievers until he's absolutely sure the drug is out of my system. They haven't been able to pinpoint what it was and he doesn't want any nasty surprises like a bad drug interaction."

"I had overheard that bit of news earlier. It's why they decided to admit you for observation," Jeff said, continuing to cut up the food into bite-sized pieces. He looked at the chicken and paused. "Tell me something. You said that the Giordanos were fifth-generation Italian-Americans."

"Yes. So?"

"So, why does _Signora_ Giordano speak so much Italian? It's not like she's from 'the old country'."

Lou smiled again and gave a soft snort. "I asked her that once. She said that they still have relations over in Italy, mostly her husband Vincenzo's family, who are getting on in years. When they pay a visit, they have to speak Italian, so it's good for them to be familiar with it. Besides, Vincenzo thinks it makes the restaurant sound more authentic, and that it's almost expected by the customers. Sounds kind of funny to have an Italian restaurant where the owners and staff say, 'Y'all'."

Jeff chuckled and glanced down at his handiwork. "There, I think that does it. Now for my own lunch." He handed her the fork and moved the bed tray into a more convenient position. He uncovered the grilled chicken sandwich from the cafeteria and started adding on the side items, like lettuce and tomato. Brains was already munching away on the thick cheeseburger he had purchased for himself. They ate in silence for a while, the quiet punctuated only by the sounds of chewing and the occasional rustle of a paper napkin.

At last, Lou pushed away her meal. "I can't eat any more," she murmured. Brains got up, washed his hands, and approached, offering to box up the remainder of her meal and find a cryofridge to store it. She thanked him gratefully, and sat back against the raised head of the bed. The dietician's aide came and went, taking the nearly full tray with her. Brains returned from his foray to the nurses' station, where they directed him to a small kitchenette that could be used by families of patients, and where he stored the rest of the chicken marsala. When he reentered the room, he found Jeff washing his hands. The two men pulled chairs up close to Lou's bed.

"Do you think it's safe to talk in here?" Jeff asked Lou, causing Brains to glance sharply at him.

Lou nodded carefully. "I think so. Everyone that I've seen come in or out has had proper identification and has stayed no longer than necessary."

"And either Brains or I have been here when you've been sleeping," Jeff added. He took a deep breath. "Well, I guess I'd better begin." He turned to his chief engineer. "Brains, first of all, you should know that Lou knows about International Rescue and our involvement in it. In fact, that's what this attack was all about."

Brains blinked several times behind his thick glasses as he tried to absorb the information. Finally, he squeaked out one word, "How?"

"Someone unknown set Interpol to collecting information on us. Lou ended up with the results of that collection, and she showed it to me the other day," Jeff replied.

"W-why would, uh, Interpol want to investigate IR?" Brains asked.

"Possible blackmail by the World Government," Lou said. "To get IR to work for them instead of being a free entity." She shrugged slightly and hissed as her shoulder pain flared. "At least those arethe rumors I've heard."

"O-Okay," Brains told them. "Suppose you tell me what, uh, happened? F-From all I've observed it, uh, obviously wasn't a t-typical 'home invasion'."

"No, Brains, it wasn't. Early this morning, a gang came looking for the information." He then proceeded to tell Brains and Lou what had happened to him during the attack. When he had finished with the account, he added, "There were two things I didn't tell the police when they took my statement. One was that I knew what the bastards were after. The other was that these people knew damn well who I was and called me by name."

"I'm not surprised," Lou said softly. "They were... professionals. That's the kind of information that they would have found out before they made any move." She shook her head slowly. "I wish to God you weren't involved, Jeff."

"W-What happened to you, Lou?" Brains asked.

Lou drew in a deep breath, and began to tell them her tale. "There were three of them. They hauled me out of bed in the middle of the night, just like they did Jeff. One I could have taken, possibly two, but three? I'm no Emma Peel." The two men exchanged confused glances, but Lou went on, unheeding. "I did manage to mark a couple of them, but they overpowered me and shot me up with a drug. I passed out and when I came to, I was tied up and blindfolded. Not that it would have made any difference; they all wore black clothes, plain ski masks, and gloves. I knew I had some kind of so-called 'truth' drug in me; I was high as a kite and started singing. They didn't much like that, so they slapped me. They asked me where the file was. I denied having it. They didn't like my answer, and slapped me around some more. They asked again. I denied having it a second time, then started laughing, and someone punched me. Then they asked me a third time, and I told them I had destroyed it. They didn't like that answer, either." She shuddered and swallowed. "One of them groped me..."

"What?" Jeff cried angrily. "Damn the bastards! When I get my hands on them..."

"M-Mr. Tracy, calm down!" Brains exclaimed. "Let Lou finish."

Jeff subsided, but a smoldering, dangerous look came into his eyes and Brains thought, _These people are dead when he catches up to them. I hope that we can talk him out of doing something drastic. _"Go on, Lou," is what he said, in his gentle tenor.

Lou chewed a bit on her lower lip, putting at risk the split that had been closed with surgical glue. Then she spoke again. "Like I said, one of them started... groping and I shouted 'No!'. I told him I'd smashed it. He stopped and pushed on my shoulder instead, and I screamed. But I guess they thought I needed some more incentive to tell them what they wanted to know. That's when they brought out Jeff, put the gun to his head, and took off my blindfold. I didn't want them to hurt him, so I made it look like they had broken me and I gave them... a disk." She smiled slightly. "I made it as unpleasant as possible for them to retrieve it. I hid it in a litter box." She became serious again and sighed. "Then the police finally showed up and the bastards took off out the back door."

"I'm surprised that the cops showed up when they did," Jeff remarked. "I figured that if the gang was watching you, they would have taken out your alarm system."

"They probably thought they did," Lou said. "But my friend built the system on what she calls the 'Musketeers' principle': 'One for all and all for one'."

"That explains why there were three units..." Jeff's voice trailed off at Lou's small, satisfied smile. "Wait. There were four Musketeers, weren't there? That means four units." Lou nodded slightly and Jeff continued. "Where was the fourth one?"

"In my inner sanctum, where it couldn't be reached," Lou said. She frowned, then winced as the bruises on her face smarted with the change of expression. "Though it took a whole lot longer than I expected for the police to arrive. I'll have to talk to Dee about the calibration. The system is supposed to put out a call within three minutes."

"Hmm. I can see that there's a problem..." Jeff's voice trailed off when Brains cleared his throat. "Right. We'll discuss that at another time."

"W-What was on this, uh, disk you gave them?" Brains asked. Jeff held his breath; this was the one question he hadn't asked and most wanted the answer to.

"What they were looking for... but not what they were looking for, either," Lou said wearily.

Jeff let out the breath and asked, "What do you mean?"

She looked down. "When I got that disk and opened the files on it, I knew I was sitting on a powder keg, but I couldn't decide just what to do with it. After my unscheduled visit to your island, I knew who I was dealing with as far as IR was concerned, and I had to do something. I realized that the people who had killed Tom and his wife were going to come after me at some point or other. So... I made a dummy disk. I altered the identikit pictures and the other sketches. I pulled fingerprints from my old case files, prints from people who I knew were dead, and substituted them for what Tom had found. I rewrote the interviews and testimonies, changing dates and times and names and places. I corrupted what little video I put on there." She paused and looked up at Jeff and Brains. "And to every single file I attached a termite."

Brains sat up suddenly. "A t-termite? Where did you g-get one of those?"

"I paid a hacker, a man I once arrested, to build me one, one I could program myself," she replied. "The parameters I programmed will ensure that every file containing the words 'International Rescue', 'Thunderbirds', 'IR', or any variation or combination thereof will be corrupted or deleted from the system into which the files are copied, or even opened." She smiled slightly. "He thought I was going to drop it into Interpol's system and was very amenable. But he doesn't really know why I wanted it."

Jeff looked confused. "Excuse me, but what is a termite?"

Brains grinned. "It's the latest cr-creature in a hacker's, uh, arsenal. It doesn't attack a computer's, uh, operating s-system, but its d-data files. You don't know it's, uh, there until you open your s-stored data or archived f-files. Like it's namesake in the, uh, insect w-world, it chews the data down into a fine mess of bytes and p-pixels. Some can even write themselves onto b-backup media." He glanced over at Lou, who nodded slightly.

"So, they didn't get what they wanted, but a whole lot more than they bargained for," Jeff said, a grim smile on his face. "I've put the information from the original disk in a safe place, and I saw you smash it with my own eyes." His grin faded. "So why do I get the feeling that the danger's not over yet?"

Lou sighed. "Because it isn't. Like I said, these people are professionals. They'll be chasing their tails for a week, two at the outside." She gazed lopsidedly at Jeff, leaning the side of her head on the mattress. "All I've managed to do is buy you some time, Jeff. Time to put into place the personnel security protocols I recommended and for your genius here to work on better security and camouflage for your equipment. You've got to put a priority on it because if you don't, they'll just start over. They won't use Interpol either. And serendipity won't save you again."

"If we could only find out who they were and where they are," Jeff exclaimed. He got up to pace around a bit, then turned to Lou again. "You said they won't use Interpol. Why not?"

She looked down again. "Like you, there were a couple of things I didn't tell the police. One was what the bastards were after. There was just no way I could explain it. But the other..." She sighed heavily and said very quietly, "I-I recognized one of their voices."

Jeff stopped his pacing. "You did?" He moved over to sit on the edge of the bed. "Who was it?" When she remained silent, he took her hand. "Please, Lou. Tell me."

Lou took in a deep shuddering breath and let it out shakily. "The man who groped me. One of my former partners. His name is James Clayton Franks. He was dismissed from Interpol for repeated and flagrant violations of their sexual harassment policies. There were a couple of criminal actions against him... some civil complaints. I have more pertinent details on him in my files. They'd more likely use him to make sure there's no repeat of what happened with Tom. He's clever, charming, and without scruples."

Jeff frowned. "Was... was he the one with the weird voice? The one you couldn't tell was male or female?"

Lou nodded. "It made him good at calling perps to set up stings. They couldn't tell if he was a man or a woman."

"He was the one that groped...?"

"Yes. Let's not talk about that anymore."

"He was the one who slammed me into the wall," Jeff said, glowering, his voice curt and angry. "He's got a lot to answer for." He got up and paced again. "Can I get into the secret room? I'd like to get that information out to my agents in the Bahamas."

Lou shook her head. "No. The catch is fingerprint activated. I have to be there."

Brains, who had been listening intently, sat up suddenly. "M-Maybe not. There might be a w-way around it. Does it use four-color camera or just scan?"

"It just scans," Lou said, puzzled.

"Ah, good." He stood, and held out his hand. "M-Mr. Tracy? My keys, p-please? And my satellite phone?"

"Oh, sure," Jeff fished around in his pockets and found the keys to the rental car, tossing them to the scientist. "The phone is under the passenger seat." Brains caught the keys mid-air and gave the two a jaunty salute as he left the room.

"I don't know of any way around the system," Lou said. She took the bed controls in her hand and lowered the head of the bed. "I think I'm going to nap now. Maybe then the headache will go away."

Jeff returned to the bed and smiled at her. "You do that. I'll wake you if there are any developments." He tweaked the covers up over her sling, but squelched the desire to brush back her hair from her forehead. He waited until her eyes closed, then walked quietly over to the window, peering out between two slats of the window blinds. It was mid-afternoon now, and the sun was moving behind the building, casting short shadows on the lawn in front of the hospital._ It's a beautiful day. I hope Brains can get us into the secret room. We need that information on her old partner now, not tomorrow. _He glanced back at the woman in the bed. _I can't believe I doubted her intentions. She's done so much to protect us. I wonder how much she had to pay that hacker? The least I can do is reimburse her for it._

He turned from the window and sat down in the chair again. _I wonder what she'll do now. When those bastards find out that they've been had, I'm sure that they'll be after her again. Maybe I can get her to come out to the island. She'd be safer there than anywhere else. _

Moving the other chair so that he could put up his feet, Jeff stretched out and tried to get comfortable. He pulled out his PDA and went through his appointments, making a mental note to reschedule his meetings in Tallahassee and Atlanta as soon as he was able to. _I am so tired! _he thought as he yawned. His eyes drooped closed, and without even realizing it, he fell asleep.

xxxx

Brains was on the road, following the GPS directions to an electronics store. He put in a call on his satellite phone, using his hands free headset.

"D-Deirdre? It's H-Hiram Hackenbacker. I've g-got a little, uh, problem you might be a-able to help me with."


	21. Scott gets a shock

_Author's note:_ This chapter gave me fits. Well, not the fall on the floor, crying and screaming sort, but... fits. Thanks to Math Girl and FrankieC for their help and advice, and to Hobbeth for betareading. I've bumped the rating up as of this chapter. Now, on to my reviewers:

**Math Girl: **Jeff's finally seen that Lou is sincere in her desire to protect IR. Now it's time for him to start being proactive and not reactive. Thanks for the good words on the termites; I just hope I haven't given some hacker out there ideas...

**fellowriverrat: **Thanks for the good words on the characterization of Brains. I wasn't looking at the Anthony Edwards portrayal of Brains, mostly because of the ridiculous stutter. In the show, Brains's stutter was more of a hesitation than a speech defect. His mind was working a whole lot faster than his mouth and he had to stop, regroup, find the word he wanted, then spit it out and go on. That's why, in any of my fics, once Brains gets going on a subject he loves and has ideas about, the stutter drops out completely. As for Jeff, he's getting the well-oiled machine that is his agents' network going, and focusing in just the right places. Whether or not the agents are able to find our bad guys (and gal), remains to be seen.

_Disclaimer: _I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any and all original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

On New Providence Island in the Bahamas, a small, private, supersonic jet touched down in Unity City's main airport. It taxied over to a private hangar and the occupants, a woman and a man, disembarked. Looking like any other travelers, they were dressed in comfortable, casual business clothes. The woman wore a blazer, while the man had a sports coat, and each carried an overnight bag. The woman also had a laptop computer case slung over one shoulder.

The pair walked together to the arrivals gate, and went through customs. Their digital passports looked authentic enough, and a harried customs official waved them through with just a cursory examination and scan of their luggage. Once beyond the terminal, the blond man hailed a cab, and the two got in, giving the driver the name of a mid-priced hotel. They got out at their destination, paid the cabby, and registered at the hotel as Mr. and Mrs. Ian Smythe.

"Oh, I am _so_ tired," the woman said, putting the computer case on a table and her bag down on the floor, then sitting down heavily onto one of the queen-sized beds. "That stopover in Miami seemed to take forever," she remarked as she removed her high heels.

"What did you expect, Liv?" the man asked mildly. "The hired help wanted to make sure they were being paid the agreed upon amount. Hence the rigamarole with the card readers." He put his own bag down carefully on a flat surface. "Of course, what we paid them is a fraction of what we'll get for this disk." Fishing around in his coat pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to her. As she waved her refusal, he slipped one between his lips, lighting it and taking a deep drag on it. He removed the jacket and as he went to hang it up, he called, "So, where is the rendezvous? I don't think you've told me."

She shucked her blazer and hung it over the back of a chair. "No, I haven't and I don't intend to."

He turned from the open closet to find that she was beginning to unbutton her light blue blouse, giving him a sly look and pursing her full lips in a sultry kiss. A grin spread over his face, and he took a last drag on the cigarette before crushing it in an ashtray. Moving over to where she stood, he finished the job with her blouse and began to unfasten the underthings beneath. She reciprocated, undoing the buttons on his shirt and smoothing her hands across his tight muscles and tanned skin. He started running his hands through her peroxide blonde hair, kissing her bared skin and making her moan. Between the caresses, he whispered, "Why won't you tell me where the rendezvous is?"

Liv stopped her explorations and pulled back to look at him, her hands on his upper arms. "Because, Franks," she said, her voice husky. "As much as I needed you to pull off the hit, and as much as I like the sex, I just don't trust you."

"Hmm," he replied, his icy blue eyes boring into hers. "Let's see what I can do to change that." With that, he kissed her fiercely and pushed her back down on the bed.

xxxx

Scott fidgeted in his father's chair. It was ten in the morning on the island, and Scott still hadn't heard from Jeff again. He debated whether or not to call him, or to call Brains, or even to call Alan for an update on the progress of the search. Getting up from behind the desk, he walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up one wall of the lounge. Something Jeff had said was stuck in his brain, something he thought was odd, and he was trying to pry it loose.

Virgil entered the lounge to see Scott standing by the windows, arms folded, tapping one foot. "What's up, Scott?"

His brother jumped then turned, startled by Virgil's sudden question. He unfolded his arms and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I don't know. Something weird is going down in the States and I can't put my finger on it."

Virgil opened his piano bench, pulling out a folder and some blank transcription paper, preprinted with musical staff lines. "Something to do with Brains? Or with Dad?" He sat down at the piano, selected a piece of music, and began to play from the faded sheets.

"Both, actually." Scott remembered his father's admonition about not telling anyone where he was going. He had already broken that promise by telling John so he could call and make sure Jeff had arrived at Lou's safely. _But this new situation changes everything, _he groused internally. _If only I knew why Dad wanted Alan to look for flights to the Bahamas... and why he wanted our agents in Unity City put on alert._

The insight he was looking for finally came. _He said that he was basing his request on something **Lou** said, _he realized. _What could that have been? I wonder if it had anything to do with those files he emailed to me. _Quickly, he returned to Jeff's desk and sat down behind it.

Virgil, his eye caught by his brother's sudden movement, stopped playing. "Scott?" he queried.

Scott ignored him for the moment and opened up the password-protected folder where he had stashed the email attachments that Jeff had downloaded. They had been run through the most rigorous anti-virus program that Brains could devise, and had come up clean. He opened the first of the files.

He sat staring for a long moment, then shouted, "_Damnation!",_ sitting back so suddenly that the chair was pushed a least a foot towards the communications console behind him. Virgil got up and hurried to the desk.

"What's the matter, Scott?" he asked, a touch of irritation in his voice.

Scott glanced over at his brother and, without a word, turned the computer screen so Virgil could see. The pianist's mouth dropped open and he murmured, "What the hell...?"

"Exactly," Scott spat out. He lifted his wrist to his mouth and activated his telecomm. "Gordon, John, Tin-Tin! I need you in the lounge right away." John and Gordon's portraits activated, and Tin-Tin's face appeared in the screen on Scott's watch.

"Hey, Scott. What's cookin'?" "What's going on, Scott?" "How can I help you, Scott?"

"Just get up here pronto, you three," he answered. "There's something going on that you all should know about."

Various forms of acknowledgement were given, and the portraits went back to normal. Scott tapped a still-stunned Virgil's shoulder. "Get in contact with Alan, will you? Then Penelope. I'm calling Dad."

"S-Sure," Virgil stammered. He took one last look at his own portrait on the computer screen before moving over to the painting of Alan, hung up against the wall. Just as he reached it, he turned and caught Scott's eye. "Whoever did that was one lousy artist. Poor technique."

"Yeah, but it's a hell of a likeness," Scott commented. Virgil rolled his eyes, then stepped over to talk to his youngest brother. Scott shook his head and went back to dialing Jeff's satellite phone.

xxxx

Brains came out of the electronics store, a medium sized bag dangling from his hand. His conversation with Deirdre had been fruitful; she had some knowledge of the fingerprint security system and was able to give him a few tips on possibly getting around it and into Lou's secret room._ Hmm. A hidden room. Sounds intriguing. I wonder how she built it? _he mused. _I'll be interested to see what she has in this "secret sanctum" of hers._

He unlocked the sedan and opened the door just as his satellite phone rang. Picking up the device, he checked the caller identification and answered the call. Scott's face appeared in the tiny screen.

"Brains! I can't get through to Dad! What's going on over there?"

"W-Wait a moment, Scott." Brains looked in the slide out drawer under the passenger seat. He seemed to remember seeing Jeff's phone there when he pulled out his own. "Uh, Scott? Y-Your father left his phone in my rental c-car. The h-hospital doesn't allow..."

On the Scott's end of the call, Brains could hear exclamations from the other Tracy brothers and Tin-Tin. "What?" "Hospital? What happened?" "What's he doing there?" "Oh my! A hospital?" Scott shushed them and returned to Brains. "Do you have the number of the hospital? And the room?"

By this time, Brains had moved into the driver's seat and had slung his purchases onto the chair next to him. "W-Wait. Let me get it." He pulled out his PDA and quickly found the number, reading it off to Scott. "S-Scott? I-I've seen your father and he's, uh, okay. Just a small a-abrasion on one cheek. Lou, however, was smacked around and d-drugged. The doctors are observing her."

"Okay, Brains. Thanks for the update. Anything else?"

Brains put the phone on hands free, started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "Y-Yes, actually. Lou t-tells us that she, uh, recognized the voice of one of her attackers. We're trying to g-get a description of him for, uh, Lady Penelope and our other a-agents."

Scott paused. "Didn't she tell the police?"

Brains shook his head. "N-No, she didn't. Listen, Scott. This wh-whole thing is very, uh, complicated. You'd do b-better to talk to your, uh, father about it."

"I fully intend to," Scott growled. "Talk to you again soon, Brains. Goodbye." The picture winked out.

Brains sighed._ This gets deeper and more twisted with every passing moment. Well, I'd better hurry back and see if I can get into Lou's house._

xxxx

Jeff didn't know what woke him: the murmur of the doctor, who was talking to Lou, or the ring of the vidphone. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, then stretched, wincing as a slight cramp in his back made itself known.

"I'll get it," he offered, levering himself out of the chair, rubbing his sore and knotted neck muscles, then walking stiffly over to the phone.

"Thanks, Jeff," he heard Lou murmur. He took one look at the caller ID and groaned softly. He picked up the receiver and took the call, allowing for "voice only".

Lou turned her attention back to her doctor. "If this last sample you took comes up clear of the drug, can I please get out of here tonight?" she asked, trying hard not to sound like she was whining.

The doctor shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Ms. Myles. Once we know you're clear of the drug, we want to gradually introduce some pain relievers and anti-inflammatory drugs, watching carefully for bad reactions. Then we'll scan your shoulder again in the morning and see if the internal swelling has gone down any and that everything is settling back into place. If it all looks good, then we'll release you then." He checked the data pad that held her notes. "This drug has got us very puzzled and I'm taking no chances with your medications."

Lou sighed and frowned. "I hate hospitals."

"I don't know of anyone who particularly likes them, Ms. Myles," the doctor said in a commiserating voice. He patted her forearm. "Rest and recuperate. My partner will see you in the morning."

"Okay, Doctor," Lou said with a resigned tone. The doctor left, leaving the door open behind him. She looked over at Jeff, who had been arguing with someone in a low tone. When the doctor departed, Jeff said, "Hold on," and put the receiver down without hanging up. Then he closed the door behind the physician, and went back to the phone.

"Scott, I tell you, I can't talk about this here and now. There's too much traffic and I never know who is going to walk in... wait, someone's at the door," he said, a touch of irritation in his voice. He put the receiver down again, and strode back to the door, muttering, "This place is like Grand Central Station." Opening it part way, he peered out, then opened it further to let Brains in, and closed it firmly behind him.The scientist took stock of the situation and sat down where Jeff had been snoozing. Lou had turned the televid on and was flipping through the channels offered, looking for something to watch. Jeff went back to the phone.

"Brains is here, Scott, and the two of us will be going over to Lou's soon. I'll talk to you on the way." A pause. "Yes, I'll tell you everything. All of you, I promise. But we've got to go before the day gets too much later. Lou? No, she's staying here overnight. Yes, I'll tell her. Okay. Goodbye, son." Jeff hung up the phone. "Whew! That was worse than Officer Mason's interrogation. And I can expect more later." He turned to Lou. "The family sends it's greetings and get well wishes. Now, how can we get into your house?"

"Bring me the phone, please. I'll call Jadzia and have her meet you there," Lou replied. Jeff did as she asked and she continued. "She's got to go over to feed the cats some dinner anyway. But don't forget to use the jammer, Jeff. Just because they've got what they want doesn't mean that they're relaxing surveillance."

He frowned. "I don't like leaving you here by yourself, Lou. Those bastards could come back."

She shook her head gingerly. "I don't think so, Jeff. I figure that since they got what they wanted, or what they thought they wanted, they'll high-tail it out of the area and deliver the goods to whoever they're working for." Lou smiled slightly. "I'm sure they don't want to tempt fate by possibly having to deal with you again. I'd say they handled you with kid gloves because they didn't want every law enforcement agency and officer in the country looking for them."

"You think they handled me with _kid gloves_?" Jeff asked, incredulous. "Lou, they threatened to_ kill _me."

"Jeff, it was a_ threat_, designed to make me do what they wanted. Franks knew it would work; he knows me well enough. What he didn't know is that I was in control. I let them _think_ they had broken me," she replied softly, looking down. After a moment, she raised her head again and spoke more decisively. "Well, let's get you into my house so you can get your people on Franks's trail." Taking the phone, she dialed a number from memory, selected "voice only", and waited for someone to answer the phone. "Hey, Mrs. Mason. Luci here. Me? Oh, I'm looking bad, feeling worse, but actually on the mend."

A pause, then, "No, they're insisting on a overnighter. Right, they eat at seven o'clock. You know where everything is. Listen, could you do me a couple of favors while you're there? Well, one is to put together a bag of clothes for me to come home in tomorrow. Right. Just comfortable stuff and be sure the shirt is button down as I'll have a sling. That's right. Oh, thanks so much! The other is to let Mr. Tracy and his friend into the house. Yes. You did? No, I didn't hear about that. Oh, did he? You really think so?" She chuckled. "Yes, I have to agree with you."

She glanced over at Jeff with her one good eye, a slight smile on her face. "They can stay the night there if they want; Mr. Tracy is still my guest. Pull out my keys and give them the security code. It's not working? Okay, I'll deal with that later. What?" Lou sat back and sighed. "Oh, damn. I should have called her. Don't worry, Jadzia, I'll get in touch with her. Oh, and please give my PDA to Mr. Tracy, if you find it. Yeah. I expect to be making a lot of calls. Six forty-five? Okay. I'll tell him. Talk to you soon. Bye." She turned to Jeff. "Jadzia says she'll be there at six forty-five. You're both welcome to stay at the house for the night."

"Hmm. That gives me a little bit of time. First, who is it you need to call?" Jeff asked as he pulled out his PDA.

Lou shook her head and sighed. "Shelly. She heard about it on television."

"Th-That's how I heard, too," Brains said.

"Go ahead and call her. Then I'll make one more call of my own," Jeff told her.

Lou stared at the vidphone, then picked up the receiver and dialed a number she knew by heart. She again selected 'voice only' and waited for someone to pick up the phone. The phone rang and rang, but no one answered.

"Damn!" Lou said ruefully. "Shelly's not home. I hope this doesn't mean that she's on her way down here to find out what's happening for herself!"

"Might be a good thing for you if she was," Jeff rejoined. He now took his turn at the phone, moving it away from Lou's bed, calling a number from his PDA and selecting "voice and picture". After a few minutes, he hung up, a satisfied look on his face.

For a moment, there was an awkward silence, then Lou turned to Brains and asked, "Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?"

"Y-You can use my, uh, electronic note pad," Brains offered, fishing his PDA out of his jacket pocket.

She wrote something down carefully with the stylus, using her left hand. "This should be the label on the disk you need, or close to it, and the password to get into the files. All the vitals I have on Jim Franks are on it. Feel free to use the computer there; it's as secure as it can be." Brains nodded, and retrieved his PDA from her.

A moment later, a nurse entered the room and put a paper cup with two pills in it on Lou's bed tray. She poured Lou a cup of water and said, "Your blood test came up clear. This is your first dose of pain reliever and anti-inflammatory. I'm to see that you take it."

Lou picked up the tiny paper container and looked at the pills inside. They looked innocuous enough. She glanced up at the nurse. She had all the proper identification on her and looked innocent enough... but...

Brains came to her rescue. He stepped over to the bed, picked up the little cup, looked inside then asked the nurse, "Wh-What has been prescribed?"

"Naproxen," was her reply.

"Okay. I-It's safe." Brains handed the cup back to Lou. "S-See?" he said softly. "Every dr-drug is identified by its, uh, shape, color, and a number. I c-can tell this is naproxen by th-those three things."

"Thanks for the confirmation, Brains. I've had some training in what features to use in identifying drugs, but I don't have them all memorized." She dumped the pills into her mouth, following them up with a big gulp of water.

The nurse smiled. "You'll feel better very soon, Mrs. Myles," she said as she turned and walked out.

Sighing, Lou laid back against the upraised head of the bed and turned her attention to the televid, which continued to blather on about the World Government and its latest international mandates. Jeff pulled up a chair and joined her, looking frequently at his watch. Brains pulled out his PDA and went over his notes from Deirdre. They sat quietly for a while, Lou half listening to the televid while wondering where her sister was, and Jeff going over in his head what he was going to say to Scott and the rest of the family, while still glancing down at his watch. He shook his head; he was not looking forward to his mother's reaction.

There was a light knock on the door, and Jeff got up to answer it. He smiled when he saw the person on the other side and then opened the door wider to admit them. It was an elderly Asian lady, wrinkled and grey, carrying a purse and a small leather case. She shook Jeff's hand, then he guided her over to introduce her to Lou, who turned off the televid. She noticed that though old, the petite lady was still spry and had a brisk walk that belied her age.

"Lucinda, I'd like you to meet Maru Soo, our agent from over the border in Tennessee. Mrs. Soo, this is my old friend, Lucinda Myles. Mrs. Soo is going to stay with you while Brains and I run our errand," Jeff explained.

The ladies shook hands, and Mrs. Soo turned to Jeff with a frown, asking, "You said 'our agent'. She knows?"

Jeff nodded. "Yes, she does. How she came to know is the reason that she's here in the hospital. The people who put her here are still on the loose and I'm not leaving her alone for any length of time."

"Jeff, you don't..." Lou protested.

"Yes, I do," he retorted in a tone that allowed no argument. "You are not going through that again. Not if I can help it. And I can."

Lou shook her head again slowly, as Mrs. Soo looked from one to the other. Then in a cheery voice, the tiny agent said, "Well, then, Miz Myles. Looks like we're going to be getting to know one another a little bit. Do y'all play Mahjongg?"

Lou chuckled as she heard Mrs. Soo's pronounced Southern drawl. "No, Mrs. Soo, I don't know how to play."

Mrs. Soo smiled, a bright white smile of perfectly aligned teeth. "Good. Then I'll teach you, if you like."

Jeff cleared his throat. "Brains and I have got to go if we're going to meet Mrs. Mason on time. I'll be back as soon as we're finished. C'mon, Brains."

Brains got up, slipped his PDA back in his jacket pocket and headed for the door. "S-See you later."

"Jeff, you don't have to come back, you know. You can stay at the house and get a good night's sleep," Lou said, exasperated.

"No, I'm coming back. You'll be okay, Lou. Mrs. Soo will see to that," Jeff replied, giving her hand a squeeze. He nodded at the agent, then followed Brains out.

Lou sighed. "He is a stubborn one."

Mrs. Soo gazed at her for a moment, then smiled and said, "Yep. That's one of his endearing qualities."

Lou looked back at her and shook her head, laughing slightly. Then she sat up straighter. "So, how do we play Mahjongg?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Mrs. Soo answered as she opened the case, brought out the tiles, and set up the game.

xxxx

Brains took Jeff out by a different entrance than through the front. "Th-There are, uh, reporters in the main lobby, and I think they're w-waiting for you."

Jeff groaned. "Thanks for thinking of it, Brains. The last thing we need is more publicity." Brains merely nodded, and led him over to the sedan.

Once in the car, Jeff let Brains take the driver's position, opting to keep his mind on what he had to tell the rest of the family instead of splitting it between driving and talking. As soon as they were inside the sedan, he dialed the island. After three rings, Scott answered the phone.

"Scott, it's Jeff."

"It's about time, Dad!" Scott said, his voice angry. "I've told everyone about your visit to Lou, so we're all on the same page as to where you are. And I told them what Brains told me about the home invasion. Now, please explain to us just what happened last night and where the hell you got the files that we've been looking through while waiting for you!"

Jeff took a deep breath and plunged in.


	22. Families and friends weigh in

_Author's note:_ Wow! This one took hardly any time at all! Hope y'all don't find it boring. Thanks to Math Girl for her help and advice, and to Hobbeth for betareading. Now, on to my reviewers:

**killhill2003: **I killed your assumptions! Oh no! Actually, I'm glad you don't know how this one is going to end. It will make the ending more of a surprise for you, if not for me.

**Math Girl: **Jeff's slipping into commander mode again. The initial shock is over and he can finally do something decisive. Whether or not it helps is still to be seen. As for the agents, I really wanted to shoehorn a certain hillbilly in there, but he just didn't fit.

**FrankieC: **Yes, Jeff has some explaining to do, and the family won't be any too happy about it. As for Mrs. Soo, I'm glad you liked her. I wonder how many people got the joke in her name. More about her and her relationship to the Tracys coming up.

_Disclaimer: _I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any and all original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

Behind the wheel of his rented sports car, Jeff was feeling frustrated.

His conversation with the family had not gone well. Virgil and Gordon were angry that they'd been lied to, as was Eleanor. Scott was angry that Jeff hadn't been keeping them all up to date on the whole situation. Alan was weary and confused because of the task Jeff had given him. Tin-Tin was upset about what had happened to Lou. John was the only level-headed one of the bunch. After Jeff explained how Lou got the files, and her theory that Interpol was being used merely because they were best at the kind of investigation that resulted in the files, the young astronaut asked two succinct questions, "Who gave the orders to investigate? And why?"

"Good questions, John," Jeff replied. "Lou has contacts in Unity City and they say that there's a scheme afoot to either expose us or to blackmail us by threatening exposure, and getting us to work for... whoever." Jeff's jaw clenched at the thought. "But no one knows just who's doing the scheming. Just that it's coming from somewhere in the World Government." He cleared his throat. "Lou knew that whoever was behind this would come after her to get the files. So when those five intruders broke in and hauled us out of bed, Lou was prepared, in a way. She had created a dummy disk, altering the identikit sketches, rewriting things, putting in different fingerprints. Not only that, but she appended a termite to each file she altered. I don't know what else she did, but that dummy is what the home invaders got this morning."

"Brains said that Lou recognized one of the voices," Virgil stated.

"Yes, she did. A former partner of hers, one James Clayton Franks. Brains and I are on our way to her house to get the information she has on this man. Scott, I'll email it to you right away, and I want you to disseminate this to all our agents, and red-flag it for those in Unity City. Lou thinks our intruders have gone there to deliver the files to whoever's behind all this. I'll also want you to send a copy of everything I've sent you to Penny, along with the description of this bastard. Finding him is to be the agents' top priority."

"If Lou did what she said she did, why worry?" Gordon wanted to know. "The altered files should direct attention away from us, and the termite would take care of any other information they may already have."

"True enough, Gordon, but once they've discovered that the disk is a phony, and their other data has been corrupted, there's nothing to keep them from starting over," Jeff replied. "Nothing, that is, unless _we _do something to make it more difficult for them to get the information they want."

There was a moment of quiet, then Scott said, "There's a file in here with security suggestions."

"That's from Lou, and may hold some of the solutions we need to keep people from connecting us to IR," Jeff explained. "We'll go over it when I get home and implement the items I deem are feasible."

"And when _will_ you be home, Jeff?" Eleanor asked, coming to the forefront, scowling at him.

"When I'm certain that Lou is safe," Jeff shot back. "Tin-Tin, would you please prepare a guest room? I'm going to try to talk Lou into coming to the island when she's released from the hospital."

Eleanor's scowl deepened, and Jeff said, "Mother, she's my friend. And she's proven herself trustworthy, at least to me. When those bastards find out that they've been had, they'll be after her again. She needs to drop out of sight. So get used to the idea." He looked up to see that Brains was pulling into Lou's driveway. "We're at Lou's house. Expect that email from us within the hour, Scott."

"Do you need us to come out and lend a hand?" John asked.

Jeff shook his head. "No, John. I think that Brains and I have it covered. We called in our Tennessee agent as well."

"Please keep us current on what's happening, okay, Dad? If you need us, call. And please stay out of trouble," Scott admonished.

Jeff said he would and disconnected the call, happy to have that particular interview over with.

Unfortunately, it took a lot longer than expected to get into Lou's little room. Jeff was pleased to see that the detector light in the workshop came up green on the first try, but he still turned on the jammer, explaining to Brains what Lou had told him about the tandem devices. Brains was fascinated, but was soon immersed in another puzzle: defeating the fingerprint scanner. Several attempts were made using Deirdre's hints before the door slid open to admit them. Then there was finding the proper disk. Lou had hundreds of data disks, all looking much the same and all filed in some arcane system that Brains was sure only Lou's mind could fathom. They found several disks tagged with titles that nearly resembled the one she had given Brains, and each was tried until the two men finally found the information they were looking for. Uploading it and emailing it didn't take long, and was simple by comparison. Jeff put in a second call to base to make sure they had the email and its attachment, and to remind Scott how important it was to disseminate it quickly.

Jeff took some time to read Lou's dossier on the disgraced officer. The man was a womanizer, of that there was no doubt. He preferred women without any attachments to those who had steady men in their lives; Lou's sarcastic note indicated that he didn't want any angry husbands, boyfriends, or fathers coming after him. Jeff did a quick calculation and was relieved; Lou and Greg were still married when the agent was her partner. Franks liked blondes more than brunettes or redheads, and tended to get rough with his women. The final nail in his coffin was pounded in when he romanced a key witness in a case involving one of the biggest software companies on the face of the planet. He got her to change her story to fit the existing evidence, but it was discovered that he had done so and her testimony was judged to be tainted. The case was thrown out of court, leaving the software company with staggering losses from the theft of their proprietary codes. Interpol moved quickly; they fired Franks, then reviewed all of his past cases to see if the same thing had happened before. It was a black eye for the agency, but their swift work was appreciated by the public and the whole thing was forgotten within a year or so. _This guy is one nasty piece of work, _Jeff realized. _It's no wonder that he was the one to... touch... Lou... _His mind refused to go any further on that subject.

Before he left her place, he retrieved the sports car from the garage, leaving Brains with the sedan. The scientist managed to snag a room at the comfortable little inn down the road from Lou's and he reminded his employer that he had to leave before noon the next day. He still had obligations to speak at the conference, and he intended to honor them. Jeff understood.

But, as a result of the extra time the trip took, it was after ten before Jeff could get back to the hospital... and visiting hours ended at nine. He had hoped that dropping his name and whispering something about a "substantial donation" would get him in to see Lou again, but it didn't work. The security officers said that the visiting hours were over and that was that. He figured they were sore because they had to fend off a bunch of nosy reporterswho were looking for himall evening. He dearly hoped that Mrs. Soo had found a way to stay with Lou.

xxxx

She had. When the dieticians came in with the evening meal, Lou mentioned that the leftovers from her lunch had been taken to the kitchenette. Mrs. Soo offered to nip out and grab them, warming them up in the kitchenette's small nuclear oven, and snagging a drink for herself in the process. She ate Lou's meal, and Lou finished the leftovers from Vincenzo's. The returning dietician's aide wrinkled her nose at the scent of garlic in the air, but since Lou's meal tray was empty, she said nothing.

The two women chatted as they played Mrs. Soo's game. Lou discovered that Maru Soo was an old friend of Eleanor Tracy, and that she taught both Tai Chi and fencing and had studied dance as a girl.

"Why fencing?" Lou asked.

"Well, it was the only Western sport that approximated Taji Sword, a Chinese sport my grandmother used to enjoy and taught me. Western fencing is different, as I soon found out, but I liked it, found I was good at it and became an instructor. It's fun because no one expects li'l ol' me behind that mask. Plus, there's something very swashbuckling about waving an epée around."

Lou chuckled. "I'm sure there is."

"I don't do it too much anymore. My Tai Chi classes are more than enough for a woman my age."

"How did you meet Mrs. Tracy?"

Mrs. Soo smiled, then answered, "We were roommates in college. Eleanor was a feisty one, that's for sure. Pretty, popular, a good student, and somehow she found the way to balance campus life with her studies. Even when Grant came along. He was quite the ladies' man back then; handsome, charismatic, but with an easy-going manner that made him as popular as she was. She was smitten with him from the moment she saw him. Problem is, so were a lot of other women, especially those in the agriculture and agronomy department. He was two years ahead of us. But Eleanor set her sights on him, and the poor guy didn't have a chance. They were married during Eleanor's senior year and Jeff was born... ahem... seven months later. So I've known _him _since they cut the umbilical cord."

Lou laughed. "I bet that's one detail that Jeff has never told his boys."

Mrs. Soo smiled again. "I agree." She gave Lou a keen glance, then asked. "How did you meet the Tracys?"

"Through my work," Lou said. She explained about her former employer and the case that brought her into the Tracys' lives. "Lucy and I became good friends, very best friends in fact. I was lost for a while when she died. I wish I could have been there when it happened, but I was on an overseas assignment. I barely made it back for the funeral." She sighed. "I didn't approach Jeff at the time. He was surrounded by his family and... his mother was there. I didn't want to cause a scene."

Mrs. Soo frowned a bit. "Why would your presence have done that? Didn't you like her?"

"It's not that," Lou replied, making a rueful face. "I respect Mrs. Tracy a lot. But unfortunately, she doesn't like_ me _very much. She thought that Jeff and I were having an affair during my investigation."

The agent looked thoughtful. "Were you?"

Lou shook her head slowly. "No, we weren't. To my knowledge, Jeff was never unfaithful. Lucy trusted him, and I know he honored that trust." She yawned, then winced as the action stretched her sore face. "I wish I knew why Mrs. Tracy thinks what she does. Over twenty years have come and gone since that investigation, and nothing has changed her mind about me, it seems." Smiling slightly, she turned to her companion. "I did meet Grant Tracy once. At the hospital when Alan was born. I could see where Jeff got his looks and charismatic personality."

"Hmm. Yes," Mrs. Soo's thoughtfulness created a silence between them for a moment. Then she took in a deep breath, let it out, and smiled. "You sound tired." She glanced at her watch. "It's getting late. I wonder where Jeff is?"

Their conversation was suspended momentarily as an announcement came over the hospital loudspeakers. "Visiting hours are from nine a.m. to nine p.m. and will be over in fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes? Hmm. That may pose a problem. Especially if Jeff doesn't come back in time," Mrs. Soo said, frowning.

"Why? I don't want to keep you here all night, and I'm sure Jeff wouldn't want you to stay either."

"Well, you're right and wrong about Jeff. He wants me to stay and keep an eye on you and if he doesn't get back in time, I've still got my duty to do. Even if it means spending the night." She brightened. "I can hide out for a bit while the nurses do their thing. But I'm sticking by your side until he comes back."

Lou covered a second yawn. "I'm too sleepy to argue with you. Why don't I ask for another pillow and blanket so you'll be comfortable?"

"That sounds like a plan," Mrs. Soo replied. "I'll make it look like I'm leaving and be right back."

And that is what they did. Mrs. Soo said her good byes, then took a quick walk around the floor and watched as the nurses made their rounds. As soon as they had finished with Lou, she returned. Lou smiled to see her, and showed her the extra pillow and blanket she had requested.

"I don't know what you're going to do if a nurse shows up in the middle of the night," Lou said.

"I'm going to try and stay awake. I think that if I manage it, I'll hear the nurses start to make the rounds and will duck into the bathroom," Mrs. Soo answered, a twinkle in her eye. "This will be fun. It's been a long time since I've had a slumber party."

Lou laughed, a good solid laugh that hurt her still bruised face, but she didn't care. It felt good to laugh and to relax knowing that someone was looking after her welfare.

xxxx

Jeff cautiously opened the door to Lou's little cottage. Somehow, he had found his way there after his expulsion from the hospital. He stepped inside, fumbled for the hallway light, and closed the door behind him. The house was quiet, quiet in a way that was more than just lack of noise. Something was missing; the heart of the house was gone and Jeff knew it. He moved over to the alarm system only to find it was still offline. Shaking his head, he locked the front door, and entered his bedroom, surprised to find the rumpled bedclothes smoothed out and in place. He slung his jacket over the foot of the sleigh bed, yawned, and stretched, scratching the back of his neck.

Wandering out to the kitchen, he found the remainder of the wine they had shared over the enchiladas. _Was that only last night? _He poured himself a glass, and rummaged around in the cryofridge for something that looked appetizing. The roast beef and its trimmings appealed to him, and he made himself a thick sandwich. Turning from the sideboard, he was faced with the clean kitchen table, the ladderback chairs now rearranged neatly around it. He stared at it for a long moment, then leaned up against the counter and ate his meal standing up.

Midnight came from somewhere, drawn by the scent of food, and wound his way between Jeff's ankles, meowing with his loud, trilling "Mrrraow!" Jeff looked down at the cat and said in a friendly manner, "Sorry, boy, but I don't think you'd appreciate the mayonnaise." A few fruitless moments later, the black cat gave up and padded over to the self-feeder, which was filled to the brim with kibble. Jeff smiled slightly. He finished his sandwich, drained his wine glass and put the dishes in the autowasher. The soiled plates from the evening before were still in there, so he rummaged under the sink to find a detergent tab, sliding it in the dispenser as he had seen his mother and Kyrano do, then pressing the button that would start the machine.

Rising from the task, he noticed for the first time that Lou's bedroom door was ajar. _Wonder if one of the cats got in? Better check. _He approached the door and swung it open, light from the kitchen spilling into the room again as it had when he woke Lou from her nightmare. His hand found the light switch and the bright overhead showed him all of her room, neat and clean. Someone had made the bed, and lying in the center of the quilt was the fluffy gray cat. "Muffins," Jeff said, using the only name he could think of for the cat. "What are you doing here?" The gray one gave him an inscrutable look, and her bushy tail twitched once.

Jeff noticed that the bedside light was gone, a probable victim in the struggle of the morning. He sat on the edge of the bed, on the side where Lou slept, and smoothed his hand over the quilt. The cat sniffed his hand as it came near, and he reached over to scratch her between the ears. "Do you miss your mistress?" he asked, moving his hand back to smooth the soft fur. She began to purr deep in her throat, her body vibrating under his hand. He stroked her absently as he looked around the room and said softly, "So do I."

He left the cat on the bed and the door open so the feline could get out if she desired. Snowball put in an appearance, preening herself and ignoring him much like she had when Jeff first encountered her. He returned to the guest room, changed into pajamas, took out his toiletries kit and entered the bathroom. To his surprise, Spot was nowhere to be found._ I hope she didn't get out again, _he thought with a frown. He combed his hair, brushed and flossed his teeth, removed the gauze that covered the abrasion, and used the toilet, all the while expecting the door to creak open and the skinny tortoiseshell cat to slink in and meow at him in a demanding voice. But there was no sign of her.

"Better see what the evening news has to say about the... incident," he murmured to himself as he crossed the hall to the living room. Once again, he pressed the button on the side of the sound system as Lou had. The tiny light came up a gratifying green, but Jeff took no chances. He turned on the jammer. Then he sprawled out on Lou's sofa and turned on the televid. After a few moments of channel surfing, he found what he wanted.

"Multi-billionaire Jefferson Tracy was a victim in an early morning home invasion in Asheville, North Carolina. He was a guest at the home of Lucinda Myles, reported to be an old friend of Tracy and his late wife, Lucille. He and Myles were taken to the hospital, where Tracy was treated for his injuries and released. Ms. Myles was admitted to the hospital overnight for observation. Local officials had this to say."

The picture changed from the brunette anchorwoman to a rugged looking man in a suit, a badge pinned to his jacket's handkerchief pocket. The name "Gerald Browning, Sheriff" flashed at the bottom of the screen. A cluster of microphones had been shoved near his face, all of them bearing the logo of a different station or network. A voice asked, "Sheriff Browning, do you have any suspects in this case yet?"

"Not at this time, but we are pursuing every possible lead," the law officer replied curtly.

"Sheriff, is there a motive behind the assault on one of the world's richest men?" another disembodied voice shouted.

"It seems that whoever perpetrated this crime was unaware of Mr. Tracy's identity," the sheriff answered. "The assault appears to have been a simple attempt at robbery."

The picture switched back to the newsroom. "A spokesperson for Tracy Industries had no comment on the incident, and the Tracy family could not be reached for a reaction. Mr. Tracy was seen leaving the hospital after the incident, and returning to visit Ms. Myles, but his current whereabouts are unknown. Ms. Myles herself is still under observation at Mission Hospital." The anchorwoman turned to her male companion. "Steve?"

Jeff muted the program, then turned it off. He switched on his telecomm and raised it so he could see the screen. The identikit picture of Virgil flashed through his mind momentarily and, with an increased awareness of the need for security, he altered his usual call sign. "Commander to Thunderbird Five. Come in, Thunderbird Five."

Alan's face appeared quickly. "Thunderbird Five, here. Hey, D..."

Jeff cut him off. "Use the words I just used, Thunderbird Five," he said.

Alan looked puzzled for a moment, then replied, "Thunderbird Five here... Commander. Go ahead."

"That's better," Jeff said with a small smile. "Report on flights to Unity City."

"It's a wash, uh, Commander," Alan replied ruefully. "I've tracked down each and every flight to Unity City within a two hundred mile radius from Asheville. There's no telling when they left or what flight they took, especially since we don't know if they flew private or commercial."

Jeff drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "It was worth a shot. Thanks, Thunderbird Five. Please inform Base that I am back at... the scene of the crime, and will be spending the night here."

"Is that safe, Da..., uh, Commander?" Alan asked, concerned.

"Safe or not, it's where I need to be at the moment. Agent 27 is hopefully holding down the fort with our... former castaway." Jeff smiled, remembering Lou's letter. "Tell Base they can reach me on my satellite phone until roughly 0900 hours, when I intend to return to the hospital."

"F-A-B, Commander," Alan acknowledged. "Anything else?"

"Negative, Thunderbird Five." Jeff yawned widely. "Just goodnight."

"Goodnight, Commander," Alan said with a grin. "Thunderbird Five out."

The transmission was disconnected and Jeff deactivated his watch. He padded back to the guest room. Just inside the open door, he pulled up short. Curled up in the middle of the bed, seemingly asleep, was Spot. He chuckled, and sat down, reaching out to scratch the skinny feline between the ears. "Where'd you come from?" he asked.

The cat lifted a sleepy head and yawned, her pink tongue curling. "Mayow," she softly replied, the sound muting down into the loud purr he remembered from the other day.

He reached out and slid his hands under the cat, gently moving her over to the other side of the bed. "You stay on your side, I'll stay on mine and you can sleep here tonight, okay?"

The cat got up, stretched her front legs, claws extended, butt in the air, then reached back with each hind leg in turn. Having flexed her muscles, she turned around in a circle twice, then lay back down, curling up in a donut shape again. Jeff snorted a laugh, then pulled back the covers and slipped between them, setting his head down on the pillow. For a long time he listened to the quiet of the house and thought about how he was going to persuade Lou to come with him to the safety of his home. Eventually, his exhaustion overtook him and he slept.

He was awakened in the morning by a loud pounding on the front door. _What the hell? _He glanced at the clock_. 0800 hours! Damn! I meant to be out of here by now!_ Getting up, he put on his dressing gown, ran a hand through his hair and went to the door. Peering out through the small window, he saw a woman, short and slightly plump, with salt and pepper hair. She raised her hand to the door knocker again, and pressed the doorbell for good measure.

He unlocked the door and swung it open. "Can I help you?"

The woman took a step back in surprise, a frown creasing her face. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I could ask you the same question, ma'am," Jeff replied, trying to keep his face neutral.

She huffed, then said, "I'm Shelly Clarendon and this is my sister's house!"

Jeff's face cleared, and he smiled slightly, then held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Clarendon. I'm Jeff Tracy, an old friend of Lou's and her guest."

Shelly's frown changed to a look of surprise. "Oh!" She took the proffered hand, and squinted as she studied his face. "Mr. Tracy. I should have known. You look a lot like your son, Scott."

He chuckled. "A lot of people say that." Something brushed against his leg, and he glanced down to see Spot trying to edge her way outside. "Oh, no, you don't. C'mere, Spot." He reached down to pick up the cat, and opened the door wider. "Come in, Mrs. Clarendon."

Shelly came in, followed by a young woman that she introduced as, "Rachel, my daughter." Jeff shook hands with Rachel, and as soon as the door was closed, he let Spot down.

"So, where's Lou?" Shelly asked, removing her jacket and hanging it up in the hall closet with familiar ease.

"Uh, she's still at the hospital, I'm afraid," Jeff told her. "The doctors admitted her for observation. She's supposed to be released this morning. In fact, I am going over there as soon as visiting hours start."

"She's still at the hospital?" Shelly queried, frowning again. "Then why are _you_ here?"

He silently counted to ten. "Lou gave me permission to stay another night..."

Her eyebrows went up, and her face took on a speculative expression. Jeff could almost read the assumptions that flitted across the woman's face and groaned internally.

"Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to go with you to the hospital," she said. "Is there anything she needs? Clothes to come home in?"

"I don't mind at all. But one of her friends put together a bag for her. It's in my car," he explained. "I didn't make it back to the hospital before visiting hours were over."

"Oh, I see." Shelly glanced around. "Then I guess I'd better let you get dressed."

"Mom," Rachel piped up. "I think her cats are hungry. Should I feed them?"

Her mother looked to Jeff, who nodded and said, "I just got up and haven't had a chance to."

"Go ahead, honey. Then Mr. Tracy here can drive us over to the hospital. And tell us everything that happened."

Jeff dressed quickly, and when he came out of the guest room, he found that Shelly was making breakfast for him.

"I don't know how you like your eggs, but I know that if I let you leave the house without eating, I'll never hear the end of it from Lou," she said, her former manner thawed a bit. He sat down at the table this time, Shelly and Rachel joining him, each with a cup of coffee. "I have to apologize, Mr. Tracy, for my reaction when you first opened the door. I expected either Lou herself or maybe Mrs. Mason here if anyone was home at all."

"Apology accepted, Mrs. Clarendon," Jeff replied, forking up a bit of scrambled egg. "And please excuse me for being so short with you. Your knocking woke me up, which was actually a good thing because I'd forgotten to set the alarm." He ate the forkful, then followed it with a swig of coffee. "Thank you for breakfast. It's just what I needed."

Shelly smiled and nodded, then sat silently while Jeff ate. He could feel the eyes of both women on him, and knew that they were politely waiting for him to finish before asking any questions. He downed the eggs and toast quickly, then Rachel took his dishes to the sink.

"Shall we go?" he asked, finishing his coffee.

"Yes," Shelly answered simply.

Jeff grabbed his jacket and strode out to the sports car, the two women following.

xxxx

By the time they arrived at the hospital, Shelly knew as much as Jeff was willing to tell her about the incident. Jeff learned that Shelly had heard about the home invasion on the news and called Lou right away to find out what happened. Jadzia had answered and told her that her sister had been taken to the hospital, but had no other information than that at the time. She had tried to call the hospital, but when no one there would give her a room number or any kind of update, the older woman had grabbed one of her children and impulsively set off to discover what was wrong on her own.

Now they were on the floor where Lou had spent the night. The door to the room was open, and Jeff indicated that the ladies should take Lou's bag and proceed. Out of the corner of his eye, he had seen a familiar face in the waiting area and he detoured to talk to Mrs. Soo.

"She's not in her room. They took her down to imaging so they could scan her shoulder," the tiny lady said. She yawned. "When I knew you weren't going to make it back, I managed to stay and keep out of the nurses' sight."

"Good work, Mrs. Soo," Jeff praised. "You look like you could use some rest before returning to Knoxville. Why don't I arrange for a room here in town..."

"Not necessary," Mrs. Soo said, waving a dismissive hand. "My grandson lives nearby. I'll take a cab and spend a day or two with him. He won't be suspicious; I've done it before."

Jeff grinned. "You are a treasure, Mrs. Soo. Thanks for coming and helping out." He embraced the lady briefly, then she looked up at him and poked a finger in his abdomen.

"It was a pleasure. What are agents for, anyway? You tell Eleanor from me to cut you some slack as far as your friend is concerned," Mrs. Soo admonished. "I'll give her a call later this week to see how she's feeling. Thanks for telling me about her illness. I was worried when I didn't get my weekly email from her."

"You're welcome. You'd better get going before Lou's kinfolk come back here and ask some uncomfortable questions."

"F-A-B, Jeff." She kissed him on the cheek and left, handbag and Mahjongg case in hand.

Jeff waited until she was in the elevator, then headed down the hall to Lou's room. The door was now closed, and he knocked on it with a knuckle. The door opened fractionally, and Rachel peered out.

"Oh, Mr. Tracy. Lou is getting a shower now. Can you come back in a few minutes?"

"Oh, uh, sure. I'll be down in the waiting room." Slightly annoyed that he was on the other side of the door, Jeff put his hands in his pockets and slowly walked back toward the waiting area.

He was still there when Brains put in an appearance. "I w-wanted to say goodbye to, uh, Lou," the scientist explained. "And check in with, uh, y-you before I left."

"How was the inn?" Jeff asked, impatiently jiggling the foot that rested on his opposite knee.

"Comfortable. The b-breakfast was unique and d-delicious."

"I might end up staying there myself," Jeff stated. "Lou's sister and niece have arrived."

"O-Oh," Brains replied, startled.

At that moment, Rachel came to the door of the waiting room. "Aunt Lou is asking for you, Mr. Tracy."

Jeff sprang to his feet. "I'm coming."

He nearly left Rachel and Brains in the dust as he strode down the hall. But he waited for Rachel at the door and let her enter first. The sound of raised voices met his ears just before he entered the room.

"I don't understand!" Shelly cried. "It doesn't make any sense! Why would they come for Mama's old emerald necklace or that painting Grandma left you? Why would they beat you up so badly? Why would you let them?"

Lou, sitting on the bed and dressed neatly in black slacks and a red camp shirt, scowled at her sister. "Shelly, that's what they were after. End of discussion." She reached out to Jeff with her good hand. "I'm glad you're here."

Jeff took her hand and squeezed it, then let it go. He stood next to the bed, close to Lou. Shelly noticed Brains for the first time and asked, "Are you going to introduce me to your _other_ friend here?"

"Yes. Shelly, Rachel, meet Hiram Hackenbacker. He's a friend of Jeff's and the one who doctored me when I washed up on Jeff's island. Hiram, meet my sister, Shelly Clarendon, and her daughter, Rachel."

Brains held out his hand, and said, "A-A pleasure to m-meet you, Mrs., uh, Clarendon."

Shelly took his hand, shook it once and said, less than graciously, "Likewise." Her eyes flitted from Jeff to Brains and back to Lou again. "Wait. Did this attack have something to do with you washing up on Mr. Tracy's island?"

Lou sighed wearily. "Just... don't go there, Shelly, okay?" She leaned her head back against the mattress. "Where's the doctor? I want to get out of here."

There was a knock on the door, but before Rachel could reach it, it swung open on its own, and a tall, thin woman with curly, highlighted hair, walked in.

"Dee! What are you doing here?" Lou asked, gaping.

"Lou! I heard what happened! Rey called me and I just had to come!" The woman came straight over to Lou's bed and embraced her, then stepped back. "Oh, Lou! You look awful!"

The effect of this new arrival on Brains was noteworthy. His jaw dropped and he managed to stutter, "D-D-Deirdre?"

At the sound of his call, Dee turned and her eyes widened. "Hiram? What are you doing here?"

Jeff and Lou exchanged glances, and Dee and Brains both looked at Lou, then back at the other. All three asked in near unison, "You two know each other?"

The trio's question caused the whole group to chuckle, and Lou replied, "I guess I'd better make some introductions. Jeff, Shelly, Rachel, meet Dr. Deirdre Macias, Ph.D. Dee, my sister, Shelly Clarendon, her daughter, Rachel, and my good friend, Jeff Tracy." She turned to Jeff. "Dee's the one who came up with the alarm system that I've been beta testing."

"Wait a minute!" Dee said, turning to Brains. "Is Lou's fingerprint entry system the one you were asking about yesterday?"

"Y-Yes, it was," he replied. "And it was hard to, uh, b-bypass, even with your instructions."

"Ah! I thought you might have trouble," she stated, shaking her head. "If I only knew that it was Lou's, I would have come down myself to help. It will activate for my fingerprint, too."

"Oh ho!" Lou exclaimed in surprise. "I never knew that!"

Dee colored. "Well, I did want to program in a fail-safe..." She moved over and sat on the edge of the bed, facing Lou. Her eyes roamed over Lou's still battered face. "That alarm system was useless though," she said sadly. "It couldn't prevent this..."

"Don't think that at all, Dee," Lou replied stoutly. "Whoever it was took out some of the stations, and probably thought they'd deactivated the lot, but that fourth unit put out a shout to the police. Probably kept them from killing me." She laid her hand on Dee's arm. "It's just a matter of recalibration, that's all."

"I hope so. I want to take a look at it today, if possible."

"It should be... if that doctor ever gets here with my discharge papers," Lou said, scowling.

Brains shuffled his feet a bit. "I-I have to go, Lou. I've g-got a lecture at, uh, three." He turned to Deirdre. "Are you c-coming back to the conference?"

"Yes, probably later tonight.or early tomorrow morning. I've got panel discussions to chair."

Lou glanced between them. "You were at the same conference? And here I thought I was supposed to come visit you yesterday."

Dee waved a hand, rolling her eyes. "No, silly girl. That's next week. I swear your memory is going."

"You're not the only one to say so," Lou quipped, giving Jeff a little dig in the gut with her good elbow. Then she beckoned to Brains. He came close and she wrapped her good arm around his neck, pulling him down for a peck on the cheek. "Have a good trip, Hiram. And thanks for everything you've done. I owe you."

Brains blushed slightly and nodded. "Goodbye, L-Lou. I m-might, uh, collect some day." He waved to the rest of those in the room. "G-Goodbye. Nice to meet you, Mrs. C-Clarendon, Rachel. See you t-tomorrow, Deirdre. See you Friday, M-Mr. Tracy?"

Jeff started, caught off guard, then he nodded. "Yes, Friday. If I change my plans, I'll call."

"Right. G-Goodbye." Brains waved once more, then left the room.

There was a moment of awkward silence, then Dee asked. "Tell me what happened. I want to hear every detail."

"Oh, Dee," Lou complained. "I've told the story so many times now. I feel like I should record it or something." She sighed heavily, but began to tell the tale again. Jeff noticed that Shelly was listening intently, perhaps waiting for some slip or discrepancy on her sister's part. But Lou's days as an investigator held her in good stead, and she told the story almost exactly the same way she had told it to everyone else outside of Jeff.

When she finished, Dee remarked, "Oh, you poor thing! I'm so glad that the police came when they did." She glanced over at Jeff. "And you were so lucky, Mr. Tracy. If those hoodlums had known who you were..."

"But they didn't and so he's safe, and I'm safe," Lou cut in. "Now all I want to do is get home and..."

Just then the doctor walked in, a smile on his face. He looked around at the assemblage, then focused on Lou. "Good news, Ms. Myles. Your shoulder is doing fine. Everything is settling back into place. I've got your discharge here, and a nurse will be along momentarily with a wheelchair. There's a prescription for some pain reliever and anti-inflammatory, and you're to wear the sling during the day for the next two weeks. Then follow up with your regular doctor." He offered her a data pad and a stylus. "Read this through, then sign it, indicating you've read and understand the instructions. The nurse will bring you a paper copy and your prescription."

"Oh, thank you, Doctor!" Lou replied fervently. She read through the instructions quickly, then signed the pad. He smiled at her again, taking the pad and heading out the door.

Lou smiled as best she could. Dee got off the bed and started helping Lou with the shoes that Jadzia had sent. Seeing this, Shelly came around and helped with the other foot. By the time they were done, the nurse was there.

"Ah, our celebrity patient," she said, her dark face lighting up with a smile. " There are reporters downstairs waiting for you."

Jeff and Lou exchanged glances, and Jeff frowned. "Who are they waiting for?" he asked.

The nurse looked over at him. "Why, they want to talk to Ms. Myles here. All about her ordeal."

"What can we do?" Shelly asked, her face troubled. "Lou doesn't need to be running a gauntlet of reporters."

Jeff faced the nurse. "Is there another exit that Ms. Myles could use? One where the reporters wouldn't be likely to see her?"

"Well, yes, but..."

He turned to Dee. "Did you bring a car?"

Her face brightened. "Yes, I did. I flew home and drove up; it's less than an hour."

"Okay. Here's the plan." He pointed to Dee. "Get your car and bring it up to the other entrance. I'll run interference at the main entrance." Dee smiled mischievously and, saluting, left the room. He turned to Rachel. "Do you remember where I parked the car?"

Startled, she said, "Uh, yeah. I remember."

He tossed the keys to her. "Please bring it around front so I can just hop in when I get through with the press." He grinned. "Take my word for it; they will not miss a chance to ask me questions and will be focused on me instead of Lou."

Rachel grinned back, and left immediately. Lou eased herself into the wheelchair, and the nurse settled her feet in the proper places. Jeff took out Lou's house keys and handed them back to her. "I'll meet you at your place," he told her, giving her hand a squeeze.

Lou gazed back up at him. "Okay, Jeff. See you there."

He let the women precede him, and waited for the visitor's elevator, while they took a staff and patients' lift. In the elevator car, he adjusted his clothes and hair. Taking a deep breath, he counted to ten. "Into the breach," he muttered to himself, then he stepped out into the lobby. He was spotted, recognized and, as he'd hoped, the press clustered around, focused on him, hopefully forgetting all about his friend.


	23. Tense Times for the Tracys

_Author's note:_ Well, the boys did to me again. They rose up in revolt and insisted on another rescue. At this rate I'll never get to the end! Thanks to Math Girl for her help and advice, and to Hobbeth for betareading. Now, on to my reviewers:

**Math Girl: **Definitely not the end, and I agree that Jeff and Lou would make a cute couple. But there are a few obstacles in the way... Grandma comes to mind. As for Dee and Brains, well, you'll have to wait a little longer. And that little piece of information about Eleanor and Grant will come in handy at another point.

_Disclaimer: _I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any and all original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

Jeff ran the gauntlet of reporters without giving them much information. Just a few words on how lucky he felt about not being hurt much and that the intruders hadn't recognized him. Nothing about Lou, his relationship to her, and especially nothing about the fact that she was being released that very moment. The reporters were persistent, but he shouldered his way through and slipped into the sports car that Rachel had brought up. She had wisely put on sunglasses and Jeff was thankful for the tinted glass on the windows. They sped out of the hospital parking lot, Jeff wincing as she nearly did a peel-out. They stopped a few blocks away to change drivers as Rachel wasn't familiar with the route to her aunt's house. 

As they drove back to Lou's, Jeff called the little bed and breakfast inn that Brains had stayed at the night before. He was able to secure a room there and was told when he could check in.

"You're the Mr. Tracy who was at our neighbor's house, aren't you?" the proprietor asked, smiling.

"Yes, I am," Jeff admitted with a sigh.

"Such an awful thing to happen. I just wish we'd had something concrete to tell the police when they came," the innkeeper told him. "We're really fond of Luci. She's a great neighbor. Any idea when she'll be out of the hospital?"

Jeff thought a moment, before responding. "Try her place later today and see if she's home."

"Oh! So soon! All right. We will. Goodbye, Mr. Tracy. We'll see you this afternoon after two."

"After two," Jeff echoed as he disconnected the call.

Rachel gazed at him, her expression puzzled. "Why didn't you tell them she was on her way home?"

Jeff glanced back at her, a small smile on his lips. "Your aunt doesn't need to be inundated by friends and well wishers the moment she gets home." He snorted a laugh. "From what I've seen the past few days, she's got so many friends around here that they'd be standing in line for hours just to say hello."

Rachel nodded, then smiled mischievously. "Maybe she could charge admission..."

He laughed along with her as the car reached the junction with the French Broad River and they approached the road leading to Lou's home.

They pulled into the drive to find Lou's truck missing, but Jadzia's work van parked behind an unfamiliar mini-van with a South Carolina license plate._ That must be Deirdre's, _Jeff realized. _What a wild coincidence that Lou's "Dee" and Brains's "Deirdre" were one and the same. Though I suppose Lou would call that discovery serendipitous, too._

The front door was unlocked and Jeff followed Rachel inside. Shelly came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Oh, there you are, Rachel. Would you please go out to the garage and help Dee bring in some boxes? Use the front door please so we don't let the cats out."

"Sure, Ma," the girl answered, turning and heading back the way she came. Shelly looked up at Jeff with a questioning expression.

"Where's Lou?" he asked politely.

"She's in her room, making phone calls. She said she had something she wanted you to help her with once she was finished."

Jeff was a little startled. "Oh, okay. How long do you think she'll be?"

"I have no idea," Shelly shook her head ruefully. "I think she's calling every friend in her phone book." Shelly turned and went back to the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, "And she's not in a very good mood, either."

"Can you blame her?" Jeff asked, following her down the hall. He entered the kitchen and helped himself to a glass from the cupboard.

Shelly immediately took it from his hands. "What would you like to drink?"

"Water. Just water."

The older woman filled the glass and handed it to him. He sipped it, leaning up against a counter top as Shelly hung up the towel she had been using. "It's not just all that happened, Mr. Tracy." There was a pause, and Shelly sighed heavily. "Greg called."

Jeff blinked, the hand holding the glass stopping mid-sip. "He did? Why?"

"I don't know exactly, but I think it had something to do with... you." Shelly sighed again and faced Jeff squarely. "Listen, Mr. Tracy. I know Lou is an adult and can make her own decisions and choices. But... I'm her older sister and sometimes I feel responsible for her. If there's anything going on between you that I should know about..."

Jeff put down his glass, an unreadable expression on his face. "Mrs. Clarendon. As you've said, Lou is an adult and can make her own choices. But as for what may or may not be going on between us, is it really any of your business?" He picked the glass up again, dumped the remaining water into the sink, and put the tumbler in the autowasher. "I'll be outside making a couple of phone calls of my own if Lou needs me." He turned and left the kitchen. Shelly watched him go, shaking her head and sighing once more.

He stopped in the guest room for a few minutes to organize his belongings and pack his bags. Then he took them out to the sports car, and pulled out his satellite phone. Leaning up against the car, his back to the house, he called home.

"Hello? Gordon, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me." Gordon looked from his position behind the desk to the portrait of Scott, sitting in the cockpit of Thunderbird One. "You've got the world's worst timing, Dad. Everyone's out..."

"On 'family business'?" Jeff asked, standing up straighter.

"Yeah. I'm on the desk this time. 'Cause of that pulled groin muscle."

"Ah, yes. I remember." _Good call, Scott. _"Where are they?"

"Haiti. Mudslide's trapped some kids in a school building. That's all we have so far. Wait. Alan's got something more for me." Gordon's face turned away from the vidphone, then he groaned and turned back. "I've just heard that it's a mission school... for the blind."

Jeff's eyes widened. "I hope your brothers are on top of this one. We haven't had to rescue too many people with physical disabilities before. I'll leave you to it, Gordon. I promised Scott I'd keep everyone up to date, so I wanted to check in and tell you that Lou is home and I've moved to the bed and breakfast down the road from her house. My plan is to try and convince her to leave with me on Friday when I pick Brains up from Atlanta."

"Good luck with that, Dad. And with Grandma if you manage to do it," Gordon said. "I'm not quite sure, but I think that I actually heard her use some cuss words under her breath when you signed off earlier."

Jeff snorted. "I wouldn't be surprised. Your Grandmother isn't as prim and proper as she's led you to believe."

"So it seems." Gordon looked away again. "Gotta go Dad. Scott's got a report for me. Talk to you later."

"Right, son. Later." The call disconnected and Jeff let out a deep breath. _Out again without me. And doing a damn good job, I'm sure. Pretty soon they won't need me at all. Then what do I do? _He shook his head. _I'll cross that bridge when I get to it._

xxxx

Scott yawned widely. Four-thirty in the morning was his least favorite time of day, but that's roughly when the emergency signal went off. He had rolled out of bed and hauled butt out to the lounge, where a sleepy Alan was giving an equally sleepy Virgil the lowdown on their next rescue. Scott was about to take the desk when he remembered that Gordon was grounded for the time being. With a small smile, he delegated his father's position to his younger brother, and with a sigh of contentment, headed for his 'Bird.

Now he had flown east at maximum speed, exchanging the dark early morning hours of one day for the cloudy late morning of the previous one. He arrived in Haiti just before eleven and zeroed in on the coordinates of the school in question. He whistled as he flew reconnaissance over the stricken area.

"Thunderbird One from base," Gordon's taut face appeared on the screen in Scott's cockpit. "How does it look?"

"Base from Thunderbird One. This is a mess. The hill behind the school is practically bare of vegetation, hence the mudslide." He flew over the school building once then again. "The building is two stories tall and the first level is completely full of mud, so much so that it's flowing through and out the front windows and doors. But there's a bottleneck at the back of the building and soon the second story will fill up. I'm not sure that the foundation will hold. The roof is curved tile and will be dangerous for the inhabitants to wait on. I'm sending down the camera to make contact. There's really no place close for me to land and set up Mobile Control."

"That seems to be happening a lot lately, hasn't it?" Gordon asked.

Scott grimaced. "Yes, it has. We'll have to talk with Da..."

Alan cut in. "Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Five. I was instructed to use the word 'Commander' when referring to our leader."

Gordon looked surprised and Scott's eyebrows went up. "You were, were you?" he asked, drily. "Okay then. We'll have to talk with our _Commander _when he returns about the Mobile Control situation." He paused. "I need an updated weather report... Thunderbird Five."

"Thunderbird One, the World Weather Administration radar of the Caribbean says that this storm cell will be dumping rain on your position for another 60 to 90 minutes," Alan responded. "I'd get out an umbrella."

Scott shook his head. "F-A-B, Thunderbird Five. Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One, what is your ETA?"

A very harried sounding Virgil responded. "I've got her pushed to the limit, Scott. But I'm still fifty minutes behind you. I hope that the building doesn't shift before then."

"We've really got to talk to Brains about increasing your Bird's top speed, Virgil," Gordon remarked. "With the discrepancy in speeds between One and Two, Scott's usually already at the Danger Zone and twiddling his thumbs by the time you arrive."

"Thanks a lot, Gords," Virgil snarled. "As if I needed a reminder..."

In the meanwhile, Scott had activated the mobile camera and sent it toward the second story of the building, where he had seen movement. He winced at the loud creaking of the stucco-sided structure. As the camera approached the the first window, a face appeared, framed in black and white, eyes wide in surprised. Suddenly the window was flung open and the camera picked up the image of a nun, who pointed to the device and jabbered in French.

"Uh, comment allez-vous?" Scott asked hesitantly. _Damn. My French is so rusty! This might have been a good time for John to pilot One. _"Parlez-vous Anglais?"

The nun said something that he couldn't quite catch over the noise of the mud and rain, but she turned and motioned to someone else. A younger woman, dressed in gray, came to the window.

" 'Allo! You are ze Intairnational Rezcue, no?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm with International Rescue. How many people are with you?"

The young woman, _A novice? _turned back to the older nun. They held a hurried conversation, then she came back to the window. "Il y a de vingt-deux... excusez-moi, s'il vous plait, zere are twenty-two students et ten zisters. Et deux gardien. Two hommes qui, how you zay, care take?"

"So there are thirty-four people?" Scott asked carefully.

"Non! Zirty-five. Moi aussi." The novice smiled shyly.

"Okay. This is what you will need to do." Scott instructed. "When the mud begins to come in through the windows on that level, you must move to the roof right away. But be careful, the roof is slippery."

The novice frowned. "Je ne comprends pas..."

"Okay. Wait a moment." Scott activated his link with Alan. "Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird One. How's your French? I need some translation help here."

"Finally someone calls on me to do the translation rather than John!" Alan exclaimed. "What do you need me to say?"

"I'm going to patch you through to the mobile camera. Tell them that when the mud begins to come in through the windows where they are, they must move to the roof immediately. And tell them to be careful; the roof looks to be pretty slippery."

"F-A-B, Thunderbird One."

Scott could see the novice jump as Alan's distinctively different voice sounded out, speaking to her in her own tongue. She asked a question in French, which Alan relayed to Scott. "She wants to know how long it will take for you to get them all off the roof."

"Tell her that we are waiting for the main rescue craft and it should be here soon."_ I hope._

Alan relayed the message, then Scott was struck by an inspiration. _The students here are blind. There's no way they're going to be able to balance themselves on the rooftop. But, if they can straddle the peak of the roof, they shouldn't fall off. And to make it easier on them to move along the peak, one or two of the nuns or the caretakers could go out with blankets and pad the tiles up there. It might give them more traction. _"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Five. I have a plan."

Alan told the novice what Scott proposed that they do. She seemed to understand, because within a few minutes, a middle-aged man and the novice herself came out onto the roof, the skirt of her gray dress slit on the sides for easy movement. _Looks like these are pretty practical people. They aren't above sacrificing a bit of modesty if it will save a life... or more than one._

Their actions came none too soon, for as they spread out the first of the blankets, there were screams inside the building and the sound of breaking glass echoed in Scott's ears. He maneuvered the camera up to the level where the two were working. "Alan, tell them that the mud has entered the second story and the others will be joining them now!"

The novice turned to the camera and Scott could see her expression change from one of concentration to one of concern and worry. She shouted to the man to hurry, and even as she did, the rooftop's trap door opened and one of the nuns stepped out, then another. The taller of the two stayed by the opening, while the smaller climbed the meter or so to the apex and sat straddled on the tiles, her calf-length black habit bunched up to her knees. The novice and the caretaker finished laying down the last blanket as the first small child was passed up out through the trap door, screaming. The blankets were quickly drenched in the downpour and the cracks, creaks, and groans of the embattled building nearly drowned out the audio feed Scott got from the camera, which tracked every move of those who were helping the school evacuate. The nun who was positioned at the roof's peak spoke sharply to the child, a little boy of no more than six, and gave him a little shake. She placed him astride the blanket-covered tiles, and the novice moved forward and loudly coaxed the boy to come to her.

_I'd better be ready for anything, _Scott thought. He began to prepare his own winch with a safety loop, something that hopefully could help pull one person to safety. "Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One. What's that ETA, Virgil. Things are getting pretty hairy here."

"Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Two," Virgil sounded less harried and more focused. "ETA, fifteen minutes. I hate to think what I've been doing to the thrusters. What equipment will we need?"

"Right now, the rescue capsule. They're evacuating to the roof. I just hope the building doesn't shift."

"F-A-B, Thunderbird One. I have double crew of John and Tin-Tin. One can work the winch and the other help load up the passengers."

"Sounds like a plan." Scott glanced back at the camera to see that the child had followed the novice and two more children had been pulled from the house and were making their way to where the young woman sat. "Looks like they might have everyone out by the time you get here."

"F-A-B. See you in thirteen minutes." Virgil's picture winked out.

"Base from Thunderbird One," Scott called. Gordon's face appeared, still looking very serious. "Where are we taking these folks once they're aboard Two?"

"The authorities at Port-au-Prince are aware of the situation and will be ready for you at the main hospital. They're not having half as hard a time as these outlying villages and towns are."

"Speaking of which; is the nearby town fully evacuated?" Scott suddenly had visions of more people sitting on their rooftops, waiting for rescue.

Alan chimed in. "I'll get on it and find out."

While Scott waited for Alan's report, he watched intently as the roof's peak began to fill up with people. Every so often a child would be followed by a nun, who would gently touch the children in front of her on a shoulder to give them comfort. The rain was plastering down both hair and clothing, and a few of the smaller ones were beginning to shiver. Suddenly, all faces turned away from Scott as Thunderbird Two's engines could be heard coming over the denuded and sodden hill.

"Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Two. I squeezed just a little bit more out of her," Virgil said, relief in his tone.

"Well done, Virge!" Scott said, smiling. "Now you've got to position Two over the building so that your retros don't blow everyone off the roof."

"So I see," Virgil replied, using Two's belly cameras to take in the scene. "You just tell them that I'm here and I'll take care of the rest."

"Alan? Would you do the honors?" Scott asked.

"Sure, Scott. By the way, there are a few people clinging to roofs and trees in the town. You'll need to swing by there when you've got the school cleared."

"F-A-B, Thunderbird Five," Scott replied as Alan's voice sounded out and told the nuns and their charges what was going to happen.

In the belly of Thunderbird Two, John and Tin-Tin manhandled the rescue capsule into position. The blond Tracy looked up at his companion. "I'll go down and you work the winch, then guide our guests back to where they can sit and dry off."

"I think I should go down," Tin-Tin said, frowning. "I speak French as fluently as you do."

"Tell you what. We'll flip for it. Rock, paper, scissors," John offered. "Whoever loses stays up here."

Tin-Tin sighed. "I have never understood why that little game has so much fascination for you boys." She paused, then nodded reluctantly. "Okay, I'll do it."

Each of them put a hand behind his or her back and said in unison, "Rock, paper, scissors, go!" She thrust her hand out in a fist, but he brought his out open and flat. She groaned.

"Paper covers rock. I go," John said with a grin. "See you in a bit, Tin-Tin." He climbed into the rescue capsule, and she began to lower it to the roof. Once he had reached the school's tiled covering, he climbed out and spoke to the nuns and their pupils. By this time, all twenty-two children, the ten nuns, and the tall, younger caretaker had joined his middle-aged counterpart and the novice and were perched on the apex of the building. He called out in French and gave his instructions: four children and one adult would make each trip until all the children were safely aboard. He also informed them that there would be someone waiting for them to guide them to a dry place to sit. Then the novice handed him the first sniffling child and the evacuation began.

Things were going smoothly, at least to Scott's augmented eyes. John and the novice were working well together, the building showed no signs of shifting, Virgil had his 'Bird perfectly positioned. He had Alan patch the camera's feed back to base so that Gordon could see what was going on. The aquanaut brother had complained that he had nothing to do.

"Dad does more at the desk than I am doing now," he griped. "Why is that?"

Scott shrugged. "I guess it's because he tends to micromanage us a bit. And at the beginning, we needed more guidance. But as we've gotten more experience, he hasn't had to do as much either."

"You're probably ri... Scott! The school!" Gordon hollered, pointing at the screen where he was viewing the camera images.

"Damn!" Scott swore. "I was afraid of this! Tin-Tin! Put that winch into overdrive!"

With a terrible creaking and a loud crashing sound, the roof of the school began to tilt as the built up mud finally managed to shake the building's foundations. John was still balanced precariously on the peak, which was moving to his left and toward Thunderbird One. He had just sent the last of the nuns up and was left with the two caretakers and the novice, who refused to go up until everyone else had done so. The middle aged caretaker slid off his perch, screaming and grasping at a sodden blanket. His fall was stopped by the quick thinking of his counterpart, who grabbed the other end of the blanket and began to pull his co-worker back up to where he was seated.

The novice, however, was not so lucky. She slipped, too, uttering a shrill cry and sliding down the slick tiles toward the edge of the teetering roof. She bumped into a vent, a metal pipe some three inches in diameter and reached out to grab onto it. With one hand, she grasped it, with the other, she quickly crossed herself then, with an effort, brought the loose hand up to hold onto the pipe as well.

John didn't hesitate. He dove off the peak of the roof after her.


	24. John takes action

_Author's note:_ You're probably wondering what happened to John, huh? Well, here is the answer to the question. Thanks to Math Girl for her help and advice, and to Hobbeth for betareading. Now, on to my reviewers:

**Fly-By-Night: **Apology accepted, Fly-By-Night. Glad that you came back to read the story, and thank you for the compliments, especially your comments on Spot. Hope you keep enjoying the story.

**Math Girl: **Thanks for the compliments on the rescue. The boys just insisted that I write another last chapter. Hope you like the way I resolved John's predicament... and the fallout from it.

**fellowriverrat:** Glad to see you've caught up. Yes, the Tracy family does have friends in many different places, Mrs. Soo among them. I'm so glad that you and others are enjoying my portrayal of Jeff. As for where Jeff and Lou end up, that's still to come. Good things come to those who wait...

**FrankieC:** You know how much I enjoy writing about Jeff! And I try to make my characters as real as I can; I'm happy to know that I'm succeeding.

_Disclaimer: _I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any and all original characters, especially the cats, are mine. The little bed and breakfast inn is based on one in Asheville that my husband and I visited last year.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

"John, no! Wait! Dammit, John!" Scott shouted as the camera showed his brother's foolhardy maneuver. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" 

John seemed to have a plan because he had grabbed one of the soaking wet blankets as he dove, feet first, down the slippery clay tiles. Holding onto two corners of the blanket, he aimed for the vent pipe that the novice was hanging onto so desperately. A violent heave and he was on his hip and shoulder, sliding sideways toward her position, rainwater spraying up from his track. Scott held his breath as John turned just slightly and snagged the vent pipe with the blanket, turning onto his belly as he used it to stop his fall and swing into the space between the girl and the flowing mud below. Startled, the young woman screamed and let go her grip. But instead of resuming her aborted slide into a muddy oblivion, she found her path blocked by John's stout shoulders.

Scott blew out his breath, and irritably said to his unheeding blond brother, "Nice move, John. Now what?"

John was ahead of him. He gave the girl instructions in French and, using his elbows as levers, he inched back up against the flow of the rain toward the vent pipe, pushing her from below. She stretched and reached as high as she could and her hands closed around the pipe once again. His boots scrabbled for purchase as he continued to edge up the tilting roof, her feet on his shoulders, until at long last, the novice could pull herself up and sat gingerly on the foot-long pipe.

He spat out a mouthful of water and shouted, "Scotty!" hoping that the mobile camera, which was following his every move, would pick up his voice over the cracking of wall supports and the roar of the mud river. "Get a rope down here or something! This pipe is not going to hold both of us for long!"

"F-A-B!" _Damn fool kid takes a chance like that! If only he'd waited a second more, we could have done this with some element of safety! _Scott griped inside as he lowered the rope he had already prepared. The line ended in a padded collar of sorts, one that could be tightened around the torso of a rescue victim. The novice watched as it came snaking down, and grabbed for it when it was within range. John instructed her from below on how to put it around her, under her armpits, and how to make sure it was snug so she wouldn't slip out. She followed his instructions, her drenched fingers fumbling with the catches, until at last she indicated that she was ready.

Scott rose very, very slowly into the air. He didn't dare use the winch; to do so would bring her into range of his retros and the turbulence kicked up by the engines would blow her around too much. Instead, he moved her gently up and over toward the waiting rescue capsule, flying carefully under Thunderbird Two, trying to stay out of the down drafts created by the cargo carrier's VTOL jets. The two caretakers, who were already in the metal box, reached out to pull her in. The novice unfastened the collar and, with a wave, let it go.

Meanwhile, John continued to elbow his way up to the pipe, sliding one hand then the other up the blanket. The school continued to shift in fits and starts, groaning as it moved, and the roof tilted more and more crazily until John was clinging to it, nearly perpendicular to the ground. It was also beginning to crumble, as were the walls. At last he came in range of the vent. He dug his toes into the clay tiles and made a desperate grab for it! His hand closed on it, then slipped off, catching the blanket again as he slid backwards a few inches. A look of extreme concentration came over his face, and he shot upward again, reaching for the pipe. This time he had it, his grasp on it secure! Bringing up his other hand, he swung himself onto the vent as the roof lurched again and threatened to dislodge him. John looked at the camera, which had stayed stationary, keeping an eye on him. "Scott, I need the rope _now_, if you please."

The camera withdrew, and the rope descended. John hurriedly fastened himself into the collar and, glancing up, gave Scott a thumbs up. This time, Scott used the winch as he gained some altitude. He could see that the roof of the school was about to slide off into the mud, and he needed to get his brother out of harm's way as quickly as possible.

"Whooaaa! Watch it, Scott!" John shouted as he flew into the air. He glanced down and saw the reason for Scott's haste. "Whew! That was close!"

Scott maneuvered Thunderbird One beneath Two again and John's momentum swung him straight toward the rescue capsule, where waiting arms grabbed him and pulled him in. He undid the harness and let it swing back out, peering out and giving his big brother a salute. His watch buzzed for attention, and Scott's scowling face looked out of the tiny screen.

"That was one damn fool stunt you just pulled and you'll be hearing from me about it later," Scott promised, his tone angry. "And I'm sure that when Da... our Commander finds out, he'll tear a strip out of you, too! Now, we've got some other people to pull off of rooftops and out of trees, so get back up top. And this time, you work the winch! Thunderbird One, out!"

John blinked a couple of times, then said mildly, "F-A-B," as the rescue capsule pulled him and the school's last refugees out of the rain to warmth and safety.

xxxx

Two p.m. and Jeff had checked in at the little bed and breakfast. He grabbed a can of soda from the cooler in the common room, noticing the pool table, the comfortable looking couches, and the state of the art plasma vid screen that sat in a niche next to the fireplace. He walked out onto the back deck, closing the screen door carefully. Here the soft gurgle of a small fountain added to the sounds of birds and wind chimes to create a calm place for peaceful reflection. But Jeff's reflections were anything but peaceful. He sipped his soft drink and sat down in one of the wooden outdoor rockers, the ladder-style back of the chair reminding him of the seats in Lou's kitchen.

He had spent an hour or so trying to find some kind of report on what his sons were doing down in Haiti. Usually the press hovered around any place where International Rescue was purported to be. But not this time. A quick notice on the World Satellite Broadcast network and that was it. _After what Lou has shown me, I suppose I should be grateful that the area is too small and remote to be of interest to the press, _Jeff mused. _But it tears me up to know that my boys are out their risking their lives without me to guide them. _He rocked back and forth absently, the rocker creaking in an almost friendly way. _One more reason to get Lou to come back to the island with me. I need to be back at the helm, but I also need to know that she's out of harm's way. Lucy would have shot me if I left her best friend to the mercies of those bastards._

A friendly dog came up to him, nose snuffling all over his jeans. He had been introduced to the canine, one of a pair, by the inn's owners. Suddenly, the pooch's attention wavered, and he peeled off, barking at something else on the deck. As Jeff watched the dog's antics, he saw what had been so attractive. It was Lou. In the natural light of the overcast day, she looked pale and the bruises, which were beginning to change color, stood out sharply. But the swelling had gone down around the one eye, and Jeff could see a brown iris peeking out from between the parted lids. She greeted the hound with a scratch between the ears then joined Jeff, sitting down in another rocker nearby.

"Shelly told me you'd come here," she said by way of conversation.

"Yeah. I thought it more fitting for your family to stay in the guest room," Jeff replied. He glanced over at her. "The boys are out again."

Lou glanced at him sharply and with interest. "Where are they this time?"

"Haiti. Mudslide," he replied, sipping his soda again. "Gordon's holding down the fort."

"Oh," was all she said as she tried to make sense of his statement.

He saw her puzzled expression and realized that for all she knew about IR, she didn't know the little details of what made it tick, and the way the well-oiled machine worked. _She'll learn soon enough out at the island, _he thought. Turning to her, he asked, "Your sister said you had something you needed me to help you with?"

"Yeah. I do. And I'm ready to do it if you are," she responded.

"I'm ready." He got up from the rocker, and offered her his hand to help her from her seat. She smiled and took it, letting him pull her from the chair. Jeff smiled back, giving her hand a comforting squeeze as they left the deck. Somehow, he forgot to let go until they stood on the porch of her cottage. Then they both noticed their entwined fingers, and each colored slightly as their hands parted.

"Your Mrs. Mason is back," Jeff remarked. "But why is that sheriff's car here?"

Before she could answer, Joze Mason came out of the house in uniform to greet them. "Hello, there, Mr. Tracy."

"Hello, Officer Mason." Jeff said as he stepped inside. "Are you here for another round of questioning?"

"No, not this time. I'm here to drive off the press if necessary."

"Ah! Have you had any business?"

"Well, yes... and no. A so-called reporter and photographer from one of the gossip rags were here slinking around. I sent them on their way with a warning."

Jeff glanced at Lou, then back at Joze. "The gossip press? What are they looking for?"

Lou sighed and looked down. "Me. You. I told you that you were a celebrity, Jeff. I wouldn't be surprised if there are rumors going around that _you_ beat me up."

Jeff blinked, his face frozen in an expression of incredulity. "But that's not what happened."

Joze spoke up. "We know that, Mr. Tracy. You were found on the floor of the living room, handcuffed and blindfolded. There was no way that you could have done this. And besides, Lou is, or was, an officer of the law. She could have taken you down, no sweat."

She snorted a laugh. "I'm glad you have such faith in my abilities, Joze." Her voice became more serious as she turned to Jeff. "You'd better be prepared for an onslaught of those kinds of stories, Jeff. They are sure to surface."

By this time they had made their way to the kitchen. Shelly was busy taking some serving dishes from the upper shelves of the cupboards. Rachel was helping her, wrapping each plate in a padded wrap and fitting them in a sturdy box.

"Did you put those crates downstairs, Rachel?" Lou asked, opening the door to the basement.

The young woman nodded, and Shelly added, "Dee is down there waiting for you."

"Thanks," she responded. Jeff followed Lou down the now familiar steps. "I had Jadzia go out and get some boxes and other packing supplies," she explained. "I'll have a number of friends coming in and out tonight and tomorrow to help me pack this place up."

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and she turned to face him. "What are your plans?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I'm not sure yet. All I know is that I can't stay here." Jeff nodded and they continued on, entering the workshop where Dee was examining the splice that Brains had used to gain access to the secret room. Lou automatically turned on the surveillance detector, but when the light came up green, she didn't bother with the jammer.

Deirdre fiddled with the connections, and after a moment, the door to the secret room slid silently open. She whistled softly. "So, that's what you put in there. Pretty snazzy set-up, girl."

"Thanks." Lou stepped inside and the lights came on. "Dee, 'd'Artagnan' is behind that rack of data disks. You'll need a Phillips head screwdriver..."

Dee held up a hand. "Say no more. I'm on it." She ducked back out.

Jeff stood in the midst of the room while Lou sat down heavily in the computer chair. "So, what do you need me to do?" he asked.

"Discombobulate the computer and pack it and the data disks up for transport," Lou said wearily. "I can't do it one-handed. Rachel said she brought some crates down."

Jeff nodded, then retraced his steps to the workshop, passing Dee as she slipped back into the secret room. He found the plastic crates that Lou had mentioned, filled with padding, tape and other packing supplies. He carried them to the opening in the wall, then frowned and said, "It's going to be tight quarters with three in here."

Dee flapped a hand at him from where she was working. "Don't worry, I'll be out of the way in a jiffy. Just need to pull out li'l ol' d'Artagnan here and take him to the workbench to see what's what."

"You named the alarm units after the Musketeers?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep. After all, they work on the 'Musketeer's Principle'," Dee replied, grinning, still concentrating on her work. "There. I've got it."

"So Lou told me," he riposted. " 'All for one and one for all'."

"And 'Up the Universe' while we're at it," Dee added, a merry smile on her face. "If you'll excuse me, kind sir? Thank you!" Lou shook her head and covered her eyes with one hand.

Jeff snorted, and moved out of Dee's way, then stepped back into the computer center. "She's got some attitude," he said, hooking a thumb in Dee's direction. He knelt in front of the computer and pulled the slim CPU from its slot, unplugging the printer/scanner combination. Then he began to wrap the processor in bubble wrap.

Lou pulled a crate toward her with her good hand. She started to awkwardly take the data disks from their racks and stack them in the box. "She's always been a bit of a maverick. Comes from having great ideas that are often so far ahead of their time that no one is willing to invest in them."

They worked in silence for a few moments, then he asked tentatively, "Your sister said that Greg called."

Lou huffed and her face took on a sour expression. "Yes, he did, the bastard. One of his old so-called buddies recognized my name from the televids and let him know what had happened. He called me and went on and on about 'dragging the name of Myles through the mud'. Then he asked snidely if you were my new 'sugar daddy'. I'm beginning to think that he's somehow gotten it mixed up, and thinks I was the one who cheated on him."

"What did you say?" Jeff put the CPU gently in the box, covered it with a layer of excelsior, and went back for the printer/scanner

"Nothing. I was so infuriated that I just hung up on him. He tried to call again but I finally programmed the phone to dump his calls. Still, it was an indicator of how people outside of the situation will see things."

"Hmm. You may be right." He laid the next, well-swathed piece of equipment in the crate with the first, then turned to her, touching her on the knee to gain her attention. "Lou, you said that you didn't have any real plans but that you couldn't stay here. I agree with that assessment, and I want to offer you an option. Come out to the island. No one will know where you are and you'll be safe, at least until we get this... problem... under control and have captured Franks." He smiled softly at her. "Please... say you'll come.

She sighed then returned the smile. Looking down, she said, "That's a very generous offer, Jeff. I really appreciate the way you've been sticking by me and looking out for me this past day and a half. It's been far more than I would have asked of you." She raised her eyes to his. "Do you mind if I sleep on it?"

He shook his head. "No, go ahead. Just remember that I'm leaving Friday and we'll have to make arrangements for your things tomorrow."

"Thanks. I'll remember." She picked up a few more disks, looking them over as she stacked them in the box. She stopped at one and offered it to Jeff. "You should have this."

"What is it?" he asked, taking it from her hand.

"The termite. Ask Brains to add it to your virus definitions... just in case."

He tucked it in his shirt pocket. "I will. Thank you."

She nodded, and they both got back to work.

xxxx

"How bad is it, Tin-Tin?" Scott asked outside the sickroom. John was getting dressed again after Tin-Tin had examined him.

Tin-Tin shook her head. "He's bruised on his buttocks, hip, shoulder and side. Not much more than bruises, though. Nothing to call the doctor about. Still, he's going to be very, very sore for a long while."

Scott scowled. "He's going to have to work through it. Gordon's injury is more severe. What the hell was he thinking?"

"That a very brave young woman was about to die if I didn't do something about it," John retorted as he came out of the sick room, his face holding a scowl of its own. He turned to the engineer's assistant. "Do you mind, Tin-Tin? It seems Scott and I have something to work out here."

Tin-Tin huffed and rolled her eyes. "You two had better get this settled before your father returns." Shaking her head, she stalked off.

Once she was out of earshot, Scott rounded on John angrily, stabbing him with a forefinger. "Okay, mister. Explain yourself!"

"You watched her longer than I did, Scott." John responded in kind, his face reddening. "You know how she put the safety of the students and the other nuns before her own. There was no time to lose or she would have been swept away. Did you have a better plan at the time?"

"As a matter of fact, I did!" Scott replied hotly. "I was going to have you put the rope from my 'Bird around you and then lower you to her. Then you could have either extended the collar to put around the two of you or you could have played the hero then and let her go first! It wouldn't have taken any longer than your damn fool stunt! You would have spared yourself a lot of bruising and she wouldn't have been startled into losing her grip! But no!" He now stuck his finger in John's face and shook it. "You practically leapt without looking, coming that close," he put his other thumb and forefinger a small distance apart, "to going over the edge into the mudslide yourself and possibly taking her with you!"

John's mouth opened and closed a few times as Scott's sally hit home. Finally, his shoulders slumped. He let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair, holding out the other palm in a gesture of capitulation. "I-I'm sorry, Scott. You're right. It would have only taken a moment to ask you if you had a plan."

"Damn right," Scott said, his anger beginning to dissipate. "For all you knew, I could have told you to jump off the roof after her like you did. It's true we often sacrifice our own personal safety to save others, but only when there's no other option. In this case, there was one."

John sighed, running his hand through his hair again. "I get the point, Scott. It... it won't happen again."

Scott reached out and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I know it won't." He gave him a lopsided smile. "C'mon, you. Let's get something to eat." He put his arm around John's shoulders and the two of them headed to the kitchen.

xxxx

"I think we're finished here," Lou said, looking around at the empty room. She sighed. "I liked having this little hideaway. I doubt..."

"What do you doubt?" Jeff asked as he fastened the last crate shut.

"Oh, I doubt anyone else would find it if I closed it up," she replied, smiling slightly. "I think I'll leave the door open."

"Good idea." Jeff looked around the workshop. "Can we deal with this room tomorrow?"

"Oh, sure. There will be more hands to help."

Dee poked her head in and smiled at them. "Are you two hungry? Shelly ordered pizza delivery."

"Sounds good," he said, smiling back. He put an arm around Lou's shoulders and said, "C'mon, you. Let's get something to eat."

xxxx

Jeff was gone, headed back down the road to his bed for the night. Dee was gone. She said she was driving home, and then flying back to Atlanta in the morning, but she promised that someone named "Reynaldo" would be there for a few hours in the morning. Shelly and Rachel were asleep, sharing the bed in the guest room, the door closed against the cats. Only Lou was awake, sitting in front of the living room computer. She wore an earpiece with a boom mike, and was waiting for a web page to load.

"Okay, Quantavius. What have you got for me?" she asked. The web page loaded, and she scrolled down through the pictures, occasionally stopping to read one of the entries and take a closer look at the pictures. "What about number four? How close? A university town? Hmm. Maybe not. Number eight? That's a possibility. Remember, I'll want to take immediate possession. How about lucky thirteen? Looks nice. Do you have any more details? Hmm. Can I have Aaron go look at it? Okay. I'll wait on his report, but put in a good word for me. Seventeen? Do you really think so? I'll look... hey, that might work..." Her conversation with the mysterious Quantavius continued for another hour and a half. At the end she was yawning and her eyes burned from lack of sleep but, finally, she had made a decision.


	25. Conversations with Lady Penelope

_Author's note:_ Now for something entirely different. I'm getting to the stuff that's been rattling around in my head for months now. Thanks to Math Girl for her help and advice, and to Hobbeth for betareading. Now, on to my reviewers:

**Math Girl: **I'm glad that the rescue felt immediate and urgent; you know I wanted it to be so. As for John's getting reamed out, I felt that what I had him do was pretty dangerous and that somebody had to point this out to him. Scott was the most logical one. I hope the boys don't pester me for another rescue in this chapter or before the end of the fic! I don't think I could stand it!

**fellowriverrat:** I apologize, _mea culpa_, I wasn't thinking right about Tin-Tin not being a nurse. But, it is rather established in the show that she's Brains's assistant in more than just the engineering side; she does help him out a bit in the sickroom with Scott and Virgil in "City of Fire". As for dropping their pants in front of her, my thought was that by this time they had some kind of medical scanner set up, something that even one of the boys or Jeff could use if necessary. After all, someone had to determine if Gordon needed to go to the doctor. My bad for not writing that in.

Grandma may have been there, done that as far as seeing the Tracy boys in the buff (and Jeff, too) but I don't think she saw them often and probably more as children. I think that they'd be even more embarrassed to show their masculinity off to their grandmother than to Tin-Tin. Remember, in this particular fic, Lucille's been dead for only seven years or so (going with the comic book timeline). Plus, Grandma's been feeling poorly lately even if she did give Jeff some sauce for being away from home and for lying to her.

Thanks for the good words on the interaction between Scott and John. And for Jeff and Lou and their little hand holding session.

_Disclaimer: _I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any and all original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

The day in Unity City dawned bright and sunny, as usual. Peter Riordan took to the roads in his cab, enjoying the sun. He had left his rainy native Eire to find warmer climes where his arthritis wouldn't hurt so much. Unity City had seemed a natural choice since, as the World Government capital, people from many of the nation states worked and lived there, much to the dismay of the original Bahamians. He enjoyed the polyglot of languages, especially since he had been a scholar of them from his early days. 

Today, he took up a spot in the queue in front of one of the mid-priced hotels. The businessmen and women who frequented it were usually good tippers; they found it easy to add their gratuity to their expense accounts. Besides, this was the sixth such hotel he had worked from in the past forty-eight hours. He had surprised some of his fellow cabbies by visiting two or three of the less lucrative stands over the past two days, but then again, he had an ulterior motive.

Yes, the day in Unity city looked to be a beautiful one. Jim Franks, however, did not appreciate it. He had searched the hotel room and Liv's belongings thoroughly every time she turned her back. There was no sign of the disk. He wined and dined her extensively (especially the "wined" part), and enjoyed her body at every opportunity, but when he asked for details about their rendezvous, she got cagey, smiling and teasing him. Finally, on this bright and sunny morning, she got out of the bed they had shared and shook him.

"Better get up and shower. We have an appointment."

Two hours later, Franks and Liv checked out of their hotel, dressed, pressed, and looking for all the world like a pair of business people who had successfully concluded whatever had brought them to Unity City. Peter, who had the bonnet of his ride open as an excuse to just watch the passers by, stood up suddenly as the two blond people stepped out to the curb and hailed a cab. He pulled a PDA from his pocket, and compared the small colored photo on the plasma screen with the man who was climbing into the taxi that had pulled up. He smiled, emphatically closed the boot of his hack and, as the other cab pulled out, counted to three and pulled out after it. No one would suspect one hack on the tail of the other, at least not in city traffic, he reasoned, and he stayed a car length or two behind as he followed the pair. At a stoplight, he pressed a button on his PDA and said softly, "Agent 53 to Pink Lady. Target acquired. Following discreetly."

A moment's silence, then a soft, cultured British voice replied, "Acknowledged, Agent 53. Be careful."

Grinning, Peter replied, "F-A-B."

In Foxleyheath, England, Lady Penelope smiled as she turned off the teapot. She looked at the ornate, antique French clock that hung on the wall of her drawing room. _Hmm. It would be after two in the morning tomorrow at the island. Not the most opportune of times to call. The poor lads are probably still exhausted from their last rescue; after all, that **is** why they asked me to coordinate the agents' reports in Jeff's absence. However, it is a mere ten in the morning where Jeff is visiting. I think I shall pass this word along to him there. _So saying, she walked over to her vidphone and speed-dialed a number. _I shall use code to tell him my news._

xxxx

It was mayhem. Or at least that's how it seemed to Jeff. When he returned to Lou's at nine the next morning, there were a number of cars and trucks lining one side the gravel road, narrowing it down to one lane for several hundred meters. Dee's van was among the vehicles parked there, as was Jadzia's. Lou's truck was nowhere to be seen but the driveway itself was empty. Jeff couldn't see the sheriff's car this morning, but Joze was there, wearing civvies, scrutinizing those who approached.

"Speak, friend, and enter," he quipped, as he opened the door.

"Friend," Jeff responded, giving Joze a wry smile.

"Enter," Joze replied with a grin, opening the door wide.

He found Rachel in the living room, carefully packing up the frames from the collage. Someone that Jeff didn't know was putting books in a box. Rachel turned to see him and smiled. "Hey, Mr. Tracy!"

"Hello, Rachel. Where's your aunt?"

"I think she's off with Reynaldo and Fred, getting the truck. She left instructions with Mom for various workers. You might want to see if she left a message for you."

"Oh? Who are Reynaldo and Fred?"

"Let's see. Reynaldo is Dee's husband; he came up this morning. Fred is a kid who works a restaurant somewhere." The young woman saw that the book packer had stopped and was staring at Jeff. "Oh, Mr. Tracy? This is Carolyn."

Carolyn smiled and held out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Tracy. I heard about you on the news."

Jeff shook the woman's hand and said, "Good to meet you, too, Carolyn. Just how do you know Lou?"

"Luci? Oh, we go to the same shooting range to practice. She helped me a lot with my handguns, and I taught her a thing or two about rifles."

"Ah. That's very interesting. If you ladies will excuse me, I'd better go see if Lou left me a message. Nice to have met you." Jeff gave Rachel a little wave and went off in search of Shelly. He stopped first in the kitchen, where one wall was covered with neatly stacked boxes, several of them bearing the words "Fragile" in big, red letters. "Excuse me, Mrs. Mason, but where can I find Mrs. Clarendon?"

Jadzia looked up from where she was pulling cans and boxes from the cupboards. She smiled at him. "Shelly's in Lou's room."

"Thank you." He crossed to the door and knocked on it, even though it was ajar. He heard a now-familiar voice call, "Come in!" and the portal swung open. Jeff stepped inside.

The room looked very different from what he had seen the other day. The bed was covered with folded linens and blankets. The curtains were down, and the top of the dresser was clear of all the little knick-knacks and toiletries that had been there. He turned and saw Shelly kneeling by the bookcase, piling the contents into a sturdy box.

"I swear I don't know why she still has all these children's books," Shelly said, glancing up at him. "My kids are almost all grown up."

"Maybe she's saved them to remind her of all the children she has been an 'honorary' aunt to over the years. Like my sons," Jeff said as he went over and picked up one of the thin volumes. He smiled as he recognized the bright yellow cover of _One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish._

Shelly hrmphed. "Maybe. I'm going to ask if she wants to donate them to some charity or children's hospital somewhere."

Jeff thought of telling her not to ask, but then decided that Lou could make up her own mind about Shelly's idea. He asked, "Did Lou leave instructions for me?"

"Oh, yes!" Shelly exclaimed. "She asked me to have you take apart the living room computer and pack it up. Then when she, Fred and Reynaldo come back with the truck, we'll start taking some of the appliances and the larger pieces of furniture out."

_Truck? _Jeff wondered, frowning.

Shelly noticed the frown and asked, "Is there a problem, Mr. Tracy?"

He started, then smiled and replied, "No, Mrs. Clarendon. No trouble. I'll get to work on the computer right away. Where will I find the necessary packing supplies?"

"Down in the workshop. Jack's down there, taking care of Lou's tools and such. Just ask him."

"Thank you," Jeff said, then he left, heading for the basement. In the workshop, he found a tall, skinny man who introduced himself as Jack. He was a sub-contractor who had helped Lou with some of the renovations to her house. "Though I had nothing to do with that neat little hideaway over there," he explained with admiration, pointing to the open doorway to the little room, no longer a secret. "A real slick operator built that for her. Have to wonder why though."

"I think she said she wanted it for a panic room," Jeff prevaricated as he gathered up what he would need to pack the other computer. The boxes he and Lou had filled the day before were stacked against a wall here, labeled much as the dishes were upstairs but with no indication as to what was in them other than the title "Electronics".

Returning to the living room, Jeff climbed under Lou's desk and unplugged everything he found under there. He was pleased to see that each component's power cord was neatly labeled. _This will make putting it back together easier. _He worked steadily for over a half hour, and was nearly finished with the job when his satellite phone vibrated and the ring tone sounded out. "It's mine," he told Carolyn, who had moved over to pack up the recordings. "I'll take it outside." She nodded in acknowledgment and he left the house. Looking around from the front porch, he figured that if he went to the left side of the house, he'd be undisturbed. Flipping open the phone as he walked, he was surprised to be confronted by the smiling face of Lady Penelope.

"Hello, Penny," he said pleasantly. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Hello, Jeff," she replied. "It is so good to see you again. How are you? How are the boys?"

"It's good to see you, too. I'm fine, just helping out a friend here. I'm not so sure about the boys; they were recently out on family business and I wasn't sure when they got back in. I intend to call them when it's a more reasonable hour at home. How are you?"

"I am very well, Jeff, very well. The friend you are helping, is that the lady who was hurt in the home invasion the other day?"

"Yes, it is."

"How is she? Was she very hurt?" Penelope found herself feeling odd asking Jeff about another woman, one who wasn't his mother or Tin-Tin.

"She was pretty badly beaten up, but she's improving every day. Now, is this a social call, or..."

"Oh, I am calling to tell you that the item you were looking for has been found, and just where you told me to look, too," she explained, knowing that Jeff would understand her double meaning. "I would like to know what you wish for me to do with it."

He was elated as he translated Penelope's code._ My agents in Unity City have spotted Franks! _"Do you have it in hand right now?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, but I should be able to lay my hands on it at any time."

"Excellent. For now, just remember where it is. I'll be able to give you further instructions when I get home."

"And when might I expect those instructions?"

Jeff blew out a breath. _I need to talk to Lou, get her to come with me to the island. If I can do that, I'll leave tonight and make arrangements for Brains to fly in a corporate jet as far as L.A. Then one of the boys can fly him home the rest of the way. _"Probably later this evening. It depends on how well negotiations go here."

"I will await your call," she replied, a warm smile on her face. "Until then, Jeff. Au revoir."

"Goodbye, Penny," he replied. The call disconnected and he sighed with relief, putting his phone back into its case. _Better get back to work, _he thought.

xxxx

Peter discreetly followed the other taxi through the city, keeping back three, sometimes four car lengths, but it became apparent that soon he would be in an area of town where car traffic was thin and seeing one cab, never mind two, was an unusual event._ Time for camouflage, _he thought. He pressed a particular button on his audio player as they passed under a bridge. An electrical charge agitated the flakes of paint that made up his hack's distinctive coloration and the outer hue of his cab changed, flashing from a dark green finish with the words, "Irish Taxi Service" on the side to a sleek, shiny, unmarked black. He removed his favorite cap, letting his dark red hair show, and pulled in his little flag that indicated he was for hire. _Hope they didn't notice the change over._

Inside the other cab, Liv fussed with her make up, while Franks jiggled his knee in irritated anticipation. She had been very careful not to let him hear where they were going, but he deduced that it was time for the rendezvous. The laptop computer case sat on the floor between them, and their luggage was sitting in the boot of their transport. Their driver didn't say anything to them, just concentrated on his driving. He didn't really want to know what business these people had in the warehouse district, especially since he had seen the hint of a gun holster under the lady's blazer. As long as they didn't hold him up, he would forget they had ever met.

At last, the cab came to a halt in front of a cement block building, one of several in a relatively new industrial park. The buildings in this group boasted of being able to withstand the ferocious hurricanes that sometimes plagued the island. The pair of blonds climbed out, retrieved their luggage from the back of the hack, and Liv paid the man, adding a generous tip that would hopefully buy his silence. The cabbie was so elated to be rid of his passengers without harm to himself that he nearly peeled out as he left the scene.

Peter drove by at a normal pace, noting the number of the building in question and watching the pair enter, the woman obviously having a key to the place. There were a few nondescript automobiles parked in the slots of the neighboring building, and Peter decided he would find a place to turn around, then come back and observe from one of the unoccupied spaces in front of the building.

Liv had slipped on a pair of leather gloves before she unlocked the glass door to the building. She smiled up at Franks, and together they passed through an empty room that would have been a reception area had the space been occupied. She led her companion up an uncarpeted flight of stairs, and using the same key, opened another, flimsier door. They entered a room with narrow windows, uncovered by any blinds, but shedding plenty of sunlight into the space. There was a simple table, and two wooden chairs for furnishing, and the bare floors creaked slightly under Franks's weight.

"So, where is our contact?" Franks asked, looking around.

Liv removed the computer from its case and placed it on the table. "We're early," she said with a sly smile. "He'll be along any minute now."

xxxx

As Jeff rounded the corner of the house, he noticed a large do-it-yourself moving truck backed up to Lou's front porch. Her truck was also back in the driveway, but backed up to the garage. He sidestepped the long metal ramp that was attached to the back of the truck and opened the front door. Just as he did, a short, well-tanned man with dark hair surrounding a bald pate and a luxurious dark mustache came to the door, hauling Lou's all-in-one laundry appliance strapped to a tall dolly.

"Look out!" the unknown man said as he backed out, turning every so often to see what was behind him. Jeff pulled the door open as far as it could go.

As the appliance dolly's wheels touched the porch, Joze Mason's head poked out then his body followed, his hands helping to steady the load and make sure it didn't bump. He saw Jeff standing there and gave him a smile. "We're starting with the stuff at the back and working our way forward, Mr. Tracy," he explained. "Fred and Jack could use your help, if you're up to it."

"I'll see what I can do," Jeff promised as he went inside.

The next hour-and-a-half tested Jeff's physical strength and, occasionally, his patience. The cryofridge came next, but not the nuclear cooker. It seemed that particular piece of equipment was staying put. The kitchen was cleared of furnishings entirely. Then the weight bench and the punching bag came up from the basement, followed by Lou's mattress, bed and other large bedroom furniture. At some point in the proceedings, Jeff was formally introduced to Reynaldo Macias, the balding man with the mustache. He was, as Jeff learned, a comic strip artist whosework was well known around the world. Jeff admitted that he was a fan and asked for an autograph.

There was nothing big to removefrom the bathroom, but the guest room furniture was taken apart and hauled out. Jeff stuck his head in to find that someone had finished what he had started and that the boxes were sealed. Moving the living room sofa required the removal of the guest room door, something the men hadn't counted on. Fortunately, the "Fred" who was working was Fred Giordano, and he managed to slip in under the couch and pop off the hinges to the door. The desk and bookcases were easy compared to the couch._ How long has it been since I had to do something like this? _Jeff mused as he scraped his knuckles on a door frame. _I don't think I have since Scott was a baby! The few times we've had to move, we hired people to do it for us. But then, we never had to leave on short notice. Lou is one damned lucky woman to have such good friends._

As they finished up with moving the big things, a van pulled into the driveway. The van had "Abby's Country Kitchen" stenciled on the side, and Margie got out of the driver's seat.

"Never fear, lunch is here!" she called merrily. "Would you folks give me a hand?"

Shelly came to the door, a puzzled look on her face. "I didn't know Lou had ordered catering. I'd better go ask her about it."

Jeff stopped her. "Let me. I haven't seen her all morning and I need to talk to her. Where is she?"

Sighing, Shelly said, "Out back. She couldn't watch the furniture being removed."

He nodded, and went out the back door, sparing a glance for the unhappy felines who meowed at him in their distinctive voices from the porch where they were confined. Jeff looked around for Lou and finally spotted her red leather jacket. She was halfway up the hill at the back of her yard, sitting on a boulder. As he got nearer, he noticed that the right shoulder of her coat had slipped off, and she was having difficulty trying to get it back on over her sling. She turned her head as he came up the hill, slightly breathless, and he was disturbed to see how sad she looked. He gave her an encouraging smile as he said, "Hey, there."

"Hi, Jeff," she said softly. He reached out from behind and pulled her jacket back into position, and went around to face her. There were tear tracks on her cheeks, and he frowned slightly. "Your sister sent me up to ask if you'd catered lunch from Abby's."

She nodded. "Yes. They gave me a good price since I was such a... good customer." The last two words came out with a tiny sob, and Jeff reached out to cup her face in his hand.

"Lou, what's wrong?"

She leaned her cheek into his palm for a second, then moved back away from his hand, and raised her eyes to the trees above their heads. "I promised myself I would never move again. I was going to stay here, live out my life here, become an active part of the community. And now I have to leave, and in so many cases, leave without saying goodbye." She sighed and gazed at him with a weary expression. "I said that your cause was worth sacrificing for. And it is." Hugging herself, she looked down at her shoes and said in a low voice, "I just wish it didn't hurt so much."

"Oh, Lou," Jeff said softly, putting a finger under her chin and bringing her gaze up to meet his. "I-I don't know what to say. I wish you didn't have to make this sacrifice. But as you said, you can't stay here. It's too dangerous."

Her shoulders slumped and she sighed again. "I know. And no real sacrifice is ever made without some sort of pain. If there's no pain, it's not sacrifice, but merely inconvenience."

They stood quietly for a moment, the only sounds around them the twitter of the birds and the rustle of the trees in their new spring finery. Then he cleared his throat, "Lou? About what I asked yesterday. Have you given my offer any thought?"

She wet her lips with her tongue and slowly nodded. "Yes, Jeff, I have. I want you to know that it's a lovely offer and I thank you so very much for making it. But... I can't. I just can't go with you to your island."


	26. Goodbyes

_Author's note:_ This is the last full chapter, folks. I do have an epilogue brewing, and we are near the end of _Serendipity_... but far from the end of the story. Thanks to Math Girl for her help and advice, and to Hobbeth for betareading. Now, on to my reviewers:

**Math Girl: **Thanks for the comments on Peter and the new tech. More of him and some more new tech in this chapter. As for Lou saying "No" to Jeff's offer, she has her reasons, some of which you'll learn in this chapter.

**Claudette: **Where is she going to go? That's a good question. Part of the answer is found in this chapter and part in the epilogue. Regardless of what happens, Lou will still be looking over her shoulder for some time to come and not only Lou, but those closest to her.

_Disclaimer: _I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any and all original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

Enjoy.

Tikatu

* * *

Peter was slouched down in his car, checking the mirrors, side and rear, and watching the door where Franks and his lady friend had disappeared. He wished he had been able to get a picture of her; he was sure it would have been helpful. One or two of the cars from the building where he was parked had left; none of them carried Franks or his consort. 

Suddenly, a black Mercedes came along and parked directly in front of the door to the building Peter was watching. It was at an angle where he couldn't see the license plate, but a big muscular man left the passenger side of the front seat. Peter recognized the signs of a shoulder holster beneath the designer suit coat, and he watched keenly as the man, definitely a native of the island, stopped at the rear door of the car. He seemed to be getting instructions, but Peter could see nothing through the tinted, reflective windows. At long last, he used a key to gain entry and went inside. "This is gettin' interestin'," the IR agent muttered to himself and he added the arrival of the strangers to a running account in his PDA and uploaded it for Lady Penelope's perusal.

Inside, Franks started suddenly and turned toward the door. "Someone's coming," he hissed to Liv.

"Be prepared to take him, but don't kill him. He's probably just making sure the place is safe for his boss," Liv whispered.

Franks nodded. She stood where the door's opening would conceal her for a few brief minutes, while Franks took up a position flattened against the wall, where grabbing and using his gun would easiest. He could hear the footsteps coming slowly down the hall, and the doorknob being tried ever so quietly. Liv had locked it again, so anyone who did a check, as this man was doing, would find all as it should be. He heard the key card being slipped into the slot, then the knob was turned again slowly, followed by the door, which was pushed open from outside in the hall. The first part that entered the room was a hand, holding a gun, then one foot stepped cautiously over the threshold and the arm began to follow. That's when Franks made his move. His strong hand clamped down on the exposed wrist and yanked, hard. The intruder stumbled into the room, and before he could react, Franks's gun was held to his head at the temple.

"Nicely done, luv," Liv said quietly. "Now, you keep him still, and I'll... frisk him."

Liv was thorough, perhaps a bit too thorough for the liking of their victim, but when she was done, she had found a second gun strapped to the man's calf, a throwing knife between the man's shoulders, and a satellite phone in his pocket. "Is that all?" she asked sarcastically. "Usually you bodyguard types are better armed. Well, now that we've defanged you, you might as well call your boss and tell him the coast is clear." She handed him back the phone. "Go ahead. We're waiting."

"Oh, and I speak the local lingo, too," Franks added. "So a word out of place and I'll have target practice."

The bodyguard leveled a killing glare at both of them, but he did as he was bid. A few minutes later, a fit, well-dressed man, the black hair on his head brushed back from his receding hairline, came into the room, preceded by another huge assistant. His eyes narrowed as he saw the scene before him.

"I see I am anticipated," he said acerbically, just the hint of a South American accent coloring his words. He motioned to his disgraced bodyguard and spoke to him sharply. The man left the gathering, still looking daggers at Franks and Liv.

Liv motioned to the other guard. "He goes, too. I know you're probably armed yourself, those weapons will have to suffice. We will negotiate only with you."

The man hesitated, then nodded to the other guard, who left slowly, keeping his eyes on the three as he departed.

Liv smiled her sly smile and motioned for the sharply dressed man to take a seat before the laptop computer. She sat gracefully in the other chair. Franks watched intently as she pressed a spot over the disk drive, a place that should not have had any type of switch. There was a muffled clatter, then the drive opened and there sat the disk. She pulled it out and said, still smiling, "Let's negotiate."

xxxx

Jeff blinked. Then frowned. "What do you mean you 'can't'?" he asked, puzzled and irritated. "You'd be safer there than just about anywhere else I can think of."

Lou turned from him slightly, folding her left arm over her sling, hugging herself. "Jeff, if Franks finds out he's been had, he_ will _come after me. Not because of what I know, but because I dared to deceive him. And if he does, your island won't be big enough to hide me. After all, it _is_ a matter of record that you own the place. I've got to disappear as completely as possible. Leave Lucinda Myles behind and become someone else." She turned back to him, spreading her good hand, palm up. "Besides, what would I do there? Work on my tan? Exchange caustic comments with your mother?" Shaking her head, she continued, "And how long would I be there? How long will it take to get this 'under control'? What do I with my cats, my things in the meantime? Yeah, I could put the stuff in storage, but not the cats. I can't leave them behind without knowing how long I'd be away, not even in Jadzia's capable hands." She reached out and put that hand on his folded arms. "Can you understand?"

"No, I can't," Jeff retorted. "I can't understand how you could be safer somewhere out there on your own without... without anyone to protect you."

"Jeff, I've lived without anyone to protect me for a long time now," Lou said softly. "My friends look out for me, but ultimately, the responsibility to stay safe falls on my shoulders." She paused. "Besides, for me to go out to your island will direct Franks's attention to it. And I don't want him anywhere near it. He's not stupid. He'd put it all together and realize that your island would be the perfect place for IR to have their secret base. And he'd stop at nothing to find out if he was right."

"We can handle that, should it come," he came back. "We've fooled the World authorities more than once. We can fool Franks."

She shook her head. "I don't want to take even the slightest chance of it, Jeff. Besides, you haven't answered my questions."

"Lou, we'd find something for you to do! My mother? She'd have to put up with it; it's my home, after all, and I'll have who I please there! Your cats? We can bring them, can't we?" He threw his hands up in the air. "Hell's bells, woman! Why are you so damn _stubborn_?"

She looked at the ground and her shoulders began to shake. He thought for one horrified moment that she was crying, but as he put his hands on her upper arms, she turned her face to him and he realized she was laughing.

"What's so funny?" he asked, still irritated.

"I made a similar comment to Mrs. Soo about you."

"And?"

She smiled, still chuckling, and said, "She said it was one of your endearing qualities."

Jeff passed his hand over his eyes, and shook his head. "She would." Glancing down at her, he raised a rueful eyebrow. "I suppose it's one of yours, too?"

"You tell me."

He snorted a laugh, and said, "I guess it is." He stepped toward her and put his hand to her face again. "Lou, I'm just concerned. I... I don't want to lose this... friendship we've rekindled."

"Neither do I, Jeff," she responded, putting her good hand over his. "And we won't. My... masquerade will only be until we get this 'under control'. And I'll keep in touch. When I get to where I'm going to be, and get my computer set up, my second email will be to you, telling you where I am. I think you can keep a secret."

"Second?"

"Well, I will have to get word to Shelly, though not directly. I have a plan for that."

"How are you going to... disappear?"

She lowered her eyes and when she raised them again, she had a mischievous twinkle in them. "I have friends in... low places. People who can build me a new identity and I have other friends who can give me a new look. I'll be seeing them in my travels. I've gone undercover enough times to know what it takes to maintain a cover."

Jeff's face became serious. "I still don't like it."

"It's my life, and my decision to make," Lou replied, her face and voice suddenly matching his. "But... if I _do_ happen to get in a jam... can I call you?"

His eyes widened, and he replied with a slight smile, "Anytime. Day or night. In either time zone."

"Thanks." She reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

He was prepared to return the salute when someone cleared their throat behind them. They turned to see Jadzia standing there, grinning, her hands on her hips. She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "If you two want any lunch, you'd better hurry in there before Fred eats it all." She shook her head, the golden beads on the ends of her loose braids clacking together. "That kid! I have no idea where he puts it all."

"Hollow leg," Jeff said sagely. "All my sons have them." He put an arm around Lou's shoulders and she put her free arm around his waist and together they went back down the hill.

xxxx

"I want to see the merchandise first," the well-dressed man said curtly.

"Of course," Liv replied teasingly. She booted up her computer, then slipped the disk back into the machine. Accessing the disk and turning the screen toward him, she gestured and said, "Be my guest." With a hard look at her and one for Franks, who had moved in to look over his shoulder, he began to open the files one by one, scrolling through them quickly. He nodded often, making noises of satisfaction. When he was done, he removed the disk from the computer, but Liv snatched it from his hand... and leveled a gun at him. She stood, motioning for him to do the same and move away from the computer. "Hands up," she said, her teasing gone and her voice hard. He complied, his face darkening with rage.

"You know something?" she asked, as Franks moved back, unholstering his own gun. "My friend and I were thinking. This little disk, with all this information about International Rescue, would get us a much bigger price if we sold it to the highest bidder. A lot more money than you are willing to pay." She reached out to grab her laptop and began to shut it down, glancing down for only seconds at a time as she went through the shutdown process. Snapping it shut, she gazed coolly at the well-dressed man. "So, unless you have a better offer to make..."

"Go to hell!" her victim said through clenched teeth, seething at this new turn of events.

The woman smiled coldly and raised her weapon. "After you."

Suddenly, there was a dull thudding sound from the vicinity of Franks. The disk flew from Liv's fingers as she was slammed back against the wall, looking surprised for a moment before sliding to the floor, the hole in her forehead a poor indicator of the extensive damage to the back of her skull. Blood and brain matter covered the wall behind her, and her body slid over to lay at grotesque angle on the bare floor. The well-dressed man went pale, stunned at the carnage. He turned to find Franks grinning rapaciously at him as the blond man swung the murder weapon around and pointed it at him.

"Keep your hands where I can see them," the blond said in his odd, genderless voice. "Don't think for a minute that I'm doing you a favor, or that I'm your friend." He expertly frisked the man, removing a semi-automatic pistol from the shoulder holster under the well-tailored suit coat, and a knife from a sheath on his victim's forearm. He pocketed all the weapons, both those from the well-dressed man and his original bodyguard, then picked the disk up from the floor where it had fallen. He briefly glanced at Liv. "Sorry, doll, but your roots were showing." He turned to the nameless man. "Where's your transport?" he asked, sliding his shiny prize into the inner pocket of his jacket and slipping the laptop into its case, then slinging it over his shoulder

"Downstairs." The well-dressed man kept his hands up, moving quickly as the blond motioned for him to leave the room before him. "Why are you doing this?"

"Good," his captor replied, ignoring the question. "Put your hands down by your sides and walk normally. Don't try anything. You already know that I'm a crack shot."

Near the base of the stairs, Franks instructed his victim to pull out his phone. "Your second bodyguard. Call him in here. And if you warn him, I'll kill you where you stand."

His target placed the call. In a few moments, the second bodyguard, the one with the weapons, came inside. He didn't have time to reach for his weapon before Franks, grinning, shot him between the eyes with his silenced gun. The well-dressed man paled again, but did not show any other emotion.

"Let's go," Franks said, his grin turning into a grim smile. They opened the door from the inside and stepped out into the sunshine. "Get in. Tell your driver that you're taking me to your employer."

"How do you know...?"

"How I know doesn't matter. I have my sources and I know you're nothing but a go-between for a much bigger fish. Now do as I say," the blond hissed.

The well-dressed man climbed into the waiting Mercedes and the blond climbed in after him, carrying the laptop over one shoulder. His presence was explained exactly as the killer had instructed. The driver scowled, but did as the well-dressed man ordered. A privacy panel slid up between Franks and his captive and the front seat, and the luxury car pulled away.

Peter, hunkered down so he could not be seen, watched the men from the black car go in and come out. As this latest exchange took place and he recognized his prey, he entered the information into his PDA, uploaded it and prepared to follow the Mercedes. But something at the door of the building made him pause. A dark liquid was oozing out from under the tinted front door. "I hope that isn't what I think it is," he murmured to himself. He looked in his rear view mirror at the Mercedes, poised to leave the area, then back at the door, and sighed. _The boss would not be happy if someone died because I didn't investigate. _He took one more look at the luxury automobile as it left, noticing something strange about the license plate, then he pulled a pair of gloves and his satellite phone from under the front passenger seat, slid his PDA into a rear pocket, put on his cabby's hat and sunglasses, then went to investigate.

In the back of the Mercedes, the well-dressed man repeated his question, "Why are you doing this?"

The blond sat back, a smug, sly smile on his face. "I'm curious._ Very _curious. I want to know what kind of man or woman ordered the hit on Lucinda Myles when Jefferson Tracy was under her roof. It takes balls to bell the cat woman in her own den, and right under the nose of one of the richest and most powerful men on the planet. Whoever you are running errands for must think that he or she is pretty much untouchable, safe from even an angry Jeff Tracy. And I want to know who wants so much data on those poor, inoffensive saps, International Rescue, that they're willing to kill for it. Besides, the bitch was right. The disk will fetch a much better offer on the black market, but I thought I'd honor our bargain to an extent and give your boss first right of refusal." He smiled wider. "And now I won't even have to share it with my whore, either."

To his surprise, his captive snorted a derisive laugh. "You are a piece of work, Franks. You really are."

"So, you know my name. Goody for you," Jim Franks sneered. "I know yours, too:Fernando RafaelRamirez. Last known as secretary to his Excellency,Carlos EstebanAlvarez, Minister of Security for the World Government. Before your elevation to such an exalted post, you were his Excellency's right hand man in Columbia." Franks sat back, his gun still pointed at Ramirez. "Now, will you satisfy my curiosity now, or do I have to wait for an audience with his Excellency?"

"Oh, an audience, by all means, Mr. Franks," Ramirez said, his confidence returning. He gazed at Franks thoughtfully. "Though I have to wonder which you are more curious about: International Rescue, Jefferson Tracy... or Lucinda Myles."

"I have always had a proprietary interest in the cat woman," Franks stated coolly. "However, right now I'm more curious to know who would go to such lengths to get this little trinket." He patted his jacket where the disk resided.

Ramirez sat back and crossed his legs at the knee. "Well, Mr. Franks, you will not have long to wait."

Franks grunted, then smiled slightly. "I hope you have a clean up crew that can take care of what I left behind at our rendezvous. Don't want the police making any... unfortunate connections."

His captive sat up as if stung and fumbled in a coat pocket for his satellite phone. Franks raised his gun a trifle higher. "Put the phone away, Ramirez. You can call when we get to our destination.. I don't want you warning anyone of my impending arrival."

He sat back again, watching his captive. He smiled as the secretary began to fidget and sweat over the possible discovery of the gruesome sight in the empty building.

Peter flipped open the cover of his PDA. From a special fabric envelope he pulled a keycard. But not just any keycard. This was one given to him by Brains, developed from a device that "Nosey" Parker had once showed him. It had a variable magnetic strip, one that adapted itself to whatever lock it was inserted into. It had seen heavy use in the service of IR, and Peter said a little prayer as he slipped it into the lock. After a second or two of concern, he heard the lock click and he pulled open the front door, careful not to step in the dark red, metallic smelling liquid that seeped out from under the door. "Sweet Mary, Mother of God!" Peter exclaimed in a shocked whisper as he was confronted with the bodyguard's corpse. He closed the door again, putting himself on the outside, and emailed his superior for instructions. Those orders, when they came, were succinct: "Call the police." Peter sighed, pulled out his phone and obeyed.

xxxx

Lunch was long over, and evening had descended on Asheville. Jeff's plans to leave that afternoon were forgotten as he got another report from Penelope, one indicating that Franks had slipped away, but they would pick up his trail again soon. Lou's belongings were packed in the moving van, and the cats were sleeping, sedated, in the back seat of Lou's truck. Reynaldo had gone home after lunch, citing family commitments. But before he did he drew a pencil caricature of Lou for Jeff and signed it, presenting it with a flourish. "Something to remember her by," he said.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it," Jeff replied softly. "Not that I could ever forget... again."

Shelly and Rachel took a tearful farewell of Lou in mid-afternoon. "Now, you promise you'll tell me when you get to your destination safely," Shelly said tearfully. "I know what it is you're going to do but you still have family and I refuse to let you cut yourself off entirely."

"I'll have a post office box set up, Shelly, one that will redirect my mail. Same thing for emails. The messages will be delayed, but we'll keep in touch. I know all the tricks. But we have to be discreet, hon. And you'll have to keep your eyes open for him. You and your kids, too," Lou warned. "You might have to pull up stakes yourselves, you know."

"I know," Shelly said sadly. "I'll do my best to be discreet. But I will miss you!" She reached out to pull Lou into a tight embrace.

"I'll miss you, too, big sister. I love you," Lou whispered, tears spilling down her bruised cheeks. It was a long time before the sisters could part, then Rachel and Lou embraced.

"Take good care of your mom," Lou instructed Rachel.

"I will," Rachel assured her aunt. Then they were gone.

Jadzia, Carolyn, and Fred said their goodbyes, as did the inn owners, and the other neighbors on the gravel road. Joze and Jack were to drive the first lap of the journey with Lou, Jack driving the big van and Joze at the wheel of Lou's truck.

Finally, it came down to Jeff and Lou.

"I don't know what to say, Lou," Jeff said softly. "It's been less than a week and I feel... so... connected. Even more so than when we knew each other before. Being here with you has refreshed me in so many ways." He looked down. "I still wish you would come with me..."

She put a finger on his lips. "Now, don't start that argument all over again, Jefferson Tracy. I will be okay. We will see each other again, of that I'm sure. I have a funny feeling that karma's not through with us yet. And I feel safer knowing that I have a refuge... and a friend... to run to if I need him."

"Just keep Oscar close, please?"

She smiled. "I will, I promise. And you look for Marvin."

He stopped for a moment, puzzled. "Marvin... Marvin?" Then he understood and his face lit up. "Oh, yeah. Marvin. I will."

Jeff took her in his arms and she laid her head on his shoulder, wrapping her free arm around his back. They looked up at each other, and softly, without thought, their lips met for a brief kiss. Then he squeezed her tightly, and she did the same to him, or as much as she could with one hand. They parted, and they walked to the truck together, his hand on her back. He opened the door for her. Joze was already inside, waiting. Jeff pulled Lou's seat belt out for her and helped her fasten it. Just before he closed the door, he looked into the back seat and saw Spot's sedated head pressed to the mesh entry of her container, and stuck a finger in to give the sleeping cat a little scratch. "Bye, Spot. See you again sometime." Then he looked up at Lou. "Bye... Luci. I'll be looking for Marvin."

Lou nodded, and he closed the door. The ungainly moving van lurched out of the drive, and headed slowly down the gravel road. Her truck followed, and Jeff joined the little group who were waving as the vehicles until they were out of sight. He sighed.

The inn owners looked back at him as they started back to their business. "Coming, Mr. Tracy?" He nodded and, hands in his pockets, he sauntered slowly to the inn and a restless night's sleep.


	27. Epilogue

_Author's note:_ End of the line. Last chapter. The end of _Serendipity_ but the story will go on. I've left too many loose ends to do otherwise. Thanks to **Math Girl** and **Hobbeth** for help and advice, and especially to **Hobbeth** for betareading this monstrosity. Broke records on this one. Most words I've ever written. Most reviews I've ever gotten. A special thanks to **ArtisticRainey** who, when told I wanted to take the "babe washed up on the beach" Mary Sue tradition and turnit upside down (thereby making her an anti-Mary Sue), told me that if anyone could do it, I could. Hope it suits, Rain! And a special thanks also to all of you who have reviewed and made my day with your thoughtful comments.

Now, on to my reviewers:

**fellowriverrat: **What can I say? First, apology accepted on the soapbox bit. I've seen you post on the subject elsewhere and understand how passionate you are about your work. Then, thanks for the good words on the story as a whole and on Lou in particular. I had set out to write an anti-Mary Sue, one that Jeff could relate to and as such, I kept the romance at a "friends only" level on purpose. My take on the Jeff/Penelope dynamic is the same as yours; she's just too young (but then you look at other rich, famous men and who are they marrying? Women young enough to be daughters if not granddaughters). Some people might expect that of Jeff Tracy; I don't.

Thank you for your compliment on my writing ability, too. Your words echo those of my husband's; he wishes I'd stop writing fanfiction and start writing for a living! But truthfully, I'm having too much fun writing about the Tracys and their various predicaments to stop entirely. And believe me, _Serendipity_ was one fic that wouldn't let me go, even when I wasn't at the keyboard.

The comic book timeline, as found in "The Complete Thunderbirds Story", has Lucille and Grant dying in an avalanche a year before Jeff conceives the idea of International Rescue. Of all the boys, the only one who is drawn as being still young is Alan, and he's in his late teens (the movie wasn't that far off, really, if you take the comics into consideration). So there's a year until Jeff gets the idea and decides to set up IR, three years' worth of development and then another three from the beginning of IR to the time of this story. Seven years in all.

**Claudette: **Thanks for your compliments regarding the story. Here is that epilogue I promised, and yes, there will be a sequel. You ask an excellent question. In chapter 15, Lou surmises that the plane incident was to keep her away from home so that Franks's crew could search her home thoroughly, and when they didn't find the disk, bug her house and watch her to see if she'd reveal its whereabouts. Of course, that presupposes that whoever sabotaged her plane knew she had a much better than average chance of surviving the crash, or that they had some way available to remove her from the plane should she be too injured to get out on her own. It was a very big risk on their part because, as you pointed out, if she died, they'd never find what they wanted.

There's also the fact that she knew someone was using Interpol to do research on International Rescue and had heard the rumors as to why. In that sense, she did know too much and her death might have served the bad guys (those pulling Franks's strings) almost as much, for then they could start all over collecting information with impunity, though it would ruin any possible timetable they had for reaching their goal. So one way or another, the plane crash could have accomplished the villains' objectives. But as she told Jeff, if they really wanted to _kill _her, the plane wouldn't have gone down. It would have blown up.

_Disclaimer: _I don't own 'em, I'm just writing about 'em. Any and all original characters, especially the cats, are mine.

I hope you have enjoyed it.

Tikatu

* * *

Early the next morning, Jeff checked out of the bed and breakfast, bidding a warm farewell to his hosts. He packed his things into the rental sports car, and pulled out of the drive. But instead of going down the gravel road, he went up and pulled into the now-familiar driveway. 

The house was quiet, as quiet as the area around it. He got out of the car, and the memory of his first encounter with Lou and Oscar came to mind. He smiled, then approached the porch. The vertical blinds were open a bit, but no inquisitive cat parted them further to see who was at the door. The view of the room was an empty one, no furniture and what remained of the photo collage was a group of slightly lighter spots on the far wall. He turned to the door and found the brass knocker there, still bearing the name of "Myles". He smoothed a finger over the surface, feeling the minute grooves that made up the etched letters

_She left this behind._

_"I've got to disappear as completely as possible. Leave Lucinda Myles behind and become someone else."_

_Yes, Lou. But who will you be? And will I see you again?_

_"We will see each other again, of that I'm sure. I have a funny feeling that karma's not through with us yet." _

_I've never believed in karma, Lou. But I agree. Fate, destiny, whatever you call it isn't finished with us. I just hope that wherever you end up, you love it as much as you loved this place._

He sighed, and smiled a bit, then turned and walked back to his car. Within moments he was on the road, heading for the airport and his flight home.

xxxx

The Mercedes carried Franks and Ramirez to a private hanger at the Unity City jetport. By this time, Ramirez had regained his composure. He and Franks left the Mercedes and headed over to a waiting helijet. The secretary had a quick word with his driver about the necessity of a "clean up" crew at the empty building they had left. The driver nodded and opened up his phone to make a call. Ramirez explained Franks's presence as he had with the driver; the pilot merely nodded and took up her position in the cockpit. The two men sat in plush captain's chairs in the passenger cabin. Ramirez had not seen Franks's gun, but he knew that the man hadn't holstered it and had it ready for whenever it was needed.

The pilot received clearance from the tower and the jet climbed into the bright blue sky. Franks, who had laid the computer case to one side of his chair, examined the cabin with appreciation. A young woman with a bright white smile and a uniform made up of a very short skirt and a white blouse with a plunging neckline, approached the two and took orders for drinks. Ramirez ordered a fine South American wine, while Franks waved her away.

"So, where are we going?" Franks asked, examining his fingernails.

"To your audience with His Excellency," Ramirez replied. "My employer is currently enjoying the comforts of his private cay in the Exumas. It is why we ride by helijet; there isn't enough room for a runway."

"Ah, I see."

The stewardess, if she could be called one, came and brought Ramirez his drink and reiterated her invitation for refreshments to Franks. He shook his head again, and the woman retired to the rear of the cabin, out of earshot.

"You know," Ramirez began after a sip of his wine. "I could kill you now and dump your body for the sharks."

Franks smiled slightly, gauging his opponent from under heavy eyelids. "You could. But you won't."

"And why not?"

"First, I am armed and do have my gun trained on you." A slight movement and the gun surfaced from between the inner side of the seat and Franks's thigh. Ramirez raised an eyebrow.

"Second," he continued, "You're probably just as curious about me as I am of you and your employer. You want to know how and where I got your name."

Ramirez sat back and sipped his wine. "This is fascinating. Please continue."

"Finally, you need me. You need me to verify the information on this disk." Franks patted his jacket again, feeling the reassuring contours of the disk.

"Why would I need you to verify it?" Ramirez asked. "What I saw looked very legitimate."

"I'm sure it does. But I know where it came from and more importantly_ who _it came from. Lucinda Myles is a pack rat when it comes to information, but she's also an idealist to an extent. If she could come up with something to throw you off of International Rescue's track, she would."

Ramirez nodded his head. "Ah, I see. But don't you think we would have the resources to check the _bona fides _of this disk ourselves?"

"You might have the people, but would they know where to look? I do."

"We shall see. For the time being, you are a guest of my employer. You may put your gun away." Ramirez smiled. "Such an interesting weapon. I heard hardly any noise at all."

"I had it custom made. The silencer is part of the gun barrel itself," Franks explained. "But I think I will keep it handy, especially since you mentioned tossing me to the fish."

"As you wish."

The pilot's voice called out in the local tongue that they were approaching the private cay. "We are here, Mr. Franks," Ramirez said. "Now you can meet my true employer."

xxxx

"So, have we covered everything from the list?" Jeff asked from his chair behind the desk. He had been home for two days now. His sons, Brains, Tin-Tin, and even Alan and Lady Penelope via portrait communicator, were gathered to discuss the new security protocols that Lou had recommended.

"Yes, Father," Virgil replied. "But it's going to be hard getting used to the new code names."

"I don't think so," John said. "Astronomy is always using the Greek alphabet for identification. And when we're with our 'Birds, we'll just keep doing the 'Thunderbird from Thunderbird' business that we've always done. It's just when we are face-to-face or speaking person-to-person that the code names come in."

"Still, for those of us without the military and astronomy background, it will take some time to adjust," Virgil complained.

Jeff turned his attention from the budding argument to speak to Tin-Tin. "What do you think about the uniforms? Can you come up with a more workable model?"

"Yes, of course, Mr. Tracy. Something that is less distinctive in some ways and more functional in others. With a billed cap and a visor to help cover the face. I intend to use some Heads Up display technology in the visors so that pertinent information can be downloaded quickly. I can even add a display like what we see in our watches. And her suggestion of an earphone and boom mike is a good one."

"Yeah, we usually need our hands free for rescuing," Gordon said with a grin. "Hey, Tin-Tin. How about putting our names on the uniforms? That way old John over here can ditch his lavender and we can still tell who is who."

Jeff pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gordon. That's enough." He took a deep breath and turned to Penelope. "Penny, will François Lemaire cooperate? Will we be able to use Penelon?"

"Jeff, I am certain he will cooperate. He has a high regard for International Rescue and is very grateful. I foresee no problems," Penelope said, smiling warmly.

"Good. Thank you for interceding on our behalf, Penny. I appreciate it." Jeff tapped a stylus against his chin. "I'd like to see if we can merge the Penelon, which is lightweight and portable, with something durable that won't rip or tear easily. Take a look at what's out there, Tin-Tin, and get back to me."

"Yes, sir."

"M-Mr. Tracy, I looked into the, uh, subcutaneous tracer technology that w-was suggested," Brain said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "It seems that it, uh, has b-been around for a l-long time. It's just been over the, uh, past few years that it's been used extensively in h-humans. It's been a t-trend to implant the tracers in ch-children to keep track of their wh-whereabouts. W-We should have n-no problem, uh, adapting it for our use."

"Excellent. That means we'll be able to pretty much dispense with the wrist telecomms. Perhaps use them as back up and here around the island," Jeff said, nodding. "Any ideas on camouflage for the Thunderbirds themselves?"

"S-Several. The problem is to, uh, sift through and f-find out which will best suit our needs," Brains said. "When the b-background checks are completed on, uh, Deirdre, I would like to discreetly share this p-problem with her."

"Contingent on her background check," Jeff replied. "There's a shipment of gloves and reflective sunglasses on its way. Small items, but an important start." He looked around the room, making eye contact with each person. "Any other questions?"

Scott cleared his throat. "You've got the information on the last few rescues. Mobile Control was virtually useless in those situations. In fact, it's becoming more and more evident that we need every hand we can get on some of these rescues, including whoever should be at Mobile Control. I'd like to suggest we find a way to make the unit smaller, perhaps even as small as a laptop. Or perhaps to incorporate it in Thunderbird One's controls."

"A good suggestion, Scott. It will be next on the list after the security upgrades," Jeff assured him. His eyes traveled around the room again. "Anything else?"

"Jeff? I have an update on the incident in Unity City and our quarry, James Franks," Penelope began. "As you know, the two murdered people were one Olivia Murphy, a former US Marshall turned mercenary, and Pedro Luis Ortega. We had trouble tracking Señor Ortega's background; it seems he is employed as a member of the Unity City Bodyguard Service, but exactly who had hired him for the day has been withheld by the police and our agents have not been able to discover it on their own. This ties in with Agent 53's identification of the Mercedes having special government license. Agent 38 is trying to gain access to the rest of the Service's photos, hoping that Agent 53 can identify the other bodyguard. The only thing that has been positively determined is that the man Agent 53 saw come out with Franks is not one of the ministers themselves. We are still trying to narrow down exactly who he is. When we do, we shall be closer to finding Franks." She sighed slightly. "We seem to be running around in circles here, Jeff. I am sorry."

"No need to be, Penny. The fact is that we have eyes and ears looking for him and he can't stay in hiding forever," Jeff said stoutly. "Keep up the good work. Does anyone have anything else to bring up?"

"Grandma is feeling better," Virgil offered.

"Yes, it seems she is." On his return, Jeff had undergone a half-hour harangue from Eleanor about honesty and spending too much time "gallivanting" when there was work to be done. He silenced her by mentioning Maru Soo, and the message he had been charged to convey.

"Maru Soo? Haven't talked to her in a donkey's age. Email's not the same," Eleanor said, frowning. Then after giving Jeff a baleful glare and a warning that he hadn't heard the last of the issue, she took herself off to phone her old friend.

"If there's nothing more, then we're adjourned," he announced. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he was at his computer, tapping away.

"D'you think Dad's okay?" John asked Virgil as they left the room for the balcony. "I mean, he's spent a lot of time on the computer since he's been home."

"Yeah, I'm wondering about that myself," the musician replied. "I asked him what he was doing, and he told me he was 'checking his email'."

"And I bet I know why," Gordon said as he came up behind them. "He's looking for something from Lou."

"But he just left her," John commented, puzzled. "And if she's trying to hide, why would she contact him?"

"I dunno. I'm just giving you my impression," Gordon replied, shrugging. The three young men turned when they heard a loud, "Hot damn!" come from the lounge.

"Let's go see," Virgil suggested. The three Tracy sons agreed, and they quietly re-entered the room.

Jeff had been logging on to the website where Lou had left the emails with the attachments. He logged in several times a day, looking for that elusive email message. This time, he logged in, only to be disappointed again with an empty inbox. He was about to log out again when he heard a chime and a message came up. It said it was from "Marvin K. Mooney" and the title read, "Will you please call now?"

He shouted, and opened the email. It had just two lines of text, a phone number and the words "Gardiner, NY" within. Grinning, he dialed the number, waiting impatiently for the vidphone to pick up on the other end. But when the call went through he was startled. The recipient had selected "voice only" and the woman who answered said, "Hello, Cindy Lou heah. Who may Ah ask is speakin'?"

"Uh, This is Jeff, Jeff Tracy. I might have a wrong number..."

The vid went on and Jeff was confronted with a woman of Lou's age. She had dark red hair done up in tight curls that framed her face. Her eyes were blue, and she had a beauty mark on her upper left cheek. She was heavily made up and her bright red lipstick made her face look pale beneath the powder. The woman said, "Well, hello theah, strangeuh," in a thick Southern drawl. "Cindy Lou Kellay, at yoah suhvice." She winked at him, then grinned. "But yew, suh, can jest call me 'Lou'."

Jeff shook his head, then relaxed and sat back. "God, it's so good to see you... Lou."


End file.
